There is Always Light
by Travithian Axile
Summary: Can the fallen be forgiven or can they forgive themselves? Sephiroth finds that there is always light in the darkness when the Planet sends him to the FF8 world to face an old foe. Rewrite submitted, titled: Crossing. In progress.
1. Prologue: A Lost Soul in the Darkness

Disclaimer: I do not own FF7 or FF8...~sob~  
  
Author's Note: WARNING...WARNING...may contain spoilers. Also, this is chiefly a Sephiroth fic~hugs Sephy~ as I'm a MAJOR fan of his. So, don't flame me if you hate his guts. Yours truly, Travithian Axile, Author extraordinaire  
  
Prologue: A Lost Soul in the Darkness  
  
Symbols: Italics: Words of the Planet/ Cetras (so-and-so): Thoughts (Italics): Memories/dreams  
  
Pain.  
  
He looked down , the Masamune sliding lifelessly from suddenly numb and shaking hands. The Ultima Weapon had sunk right up to its hilt into his chest, its blade scraping against his ribs and spine, likely puncturing a few important organs as well. He touched the wound—his first serious wound in, what decades?—with an almost morbid fascination, watching his fingers turn scarlet.  
  
He was abruptly on his hands and knees, coughing wetly, watching his own blood stain the ground. His silver hair clung to his eyes, obscuring his vision, as he struggled to focus, even as he knew he was dying. Not even a person enhanced like him with Jenova cells and Mako could possibly survive a clearly mortal wound. The world was fading, as was Jenova's scream of bitter rage and disappointment within his mind. He winced as his 'mother' struck him in almost petulant frustration, and his eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the source of his failure—Cloud Strife.  
  
Cloud's glowing blue eyes met darkening, jade green ones—was there almost sympathy in those sapphire, Mako eyes? The once-great ShinRa general attempted to form words, throw a bitter curse or something, but the cold steel buried deep within his guts stopped him short. Blood filled his lungs, until it was agony just breathing. He tried to hold on to life, but there was just too much pain. Sephiroth collapsed, a tragic, crumpled figure, defeated finally, at his enemy's feet, his last breath sighing emptily past his parted lips.  
  
***  
  
His eyes closed, only to open again after what seemed barely a few seconds later, to gaze upon a sea of angry, roiling green. If he concentrated, he could almost hear voices, blending as one single cry......  
  
Murderer! Puppet! Jenova spawn! Killer! One-winged angel! Bringer of Death!  
Hell demon!  
  
And rising above it all, an inarticulate scream of rage, thirsting, hungry, terrible—  
  
Sephiroth Sephiroth Sephiroth he'shereatlastwecanhaveourrevenge atlastatlastvenegeanceshallbeours—  
  
The sea reached for him in one united desire, seeking to drown him, to rend him apart, and as they approached he could make out thousands of ghostly faces, all etched with hate, grasping hands curled into claws like birds of prey, lips whispering soundless accusations of infinite fury and contempt.  
  
Painpainpain......for what he has given us we shall give......yes!  
  
In death all doors opened, all secrets revealed. And Sephiroth saw, with cool, blinding clarity, the truth, like one of Hojo's scalpels, slicing him to the heart and drawing blood. He looked at his hands and saw that they were covered in the blood of thousands, many of whom had been innocents, pleading as they had died, terrible deaths, all for the sake of the whims of the president and his own amusement, as a cat taunts a mouse......  
  
(Oh, how I've been fooled......by Shinra, by Jenova......and I thought so highly of myself. And what did I become in the end? A tool, a wonderful, glittering toy for them to play with, a trained dog at their beck and call......no matter how I swore I would never let that happen again, after Hojo, damn him, damn her......)  
  
Sephiroth faced the enraged Cetra calmly. In this state if the afterlife he still wore his old clothes, but the Masamune, normally a reassuring weight on his back, was gone, unsurprisingly. He watched them advance dispassionately, his lack of fear arousing a certain curiosity in his heart—if he even had a heart left, between Jenova and ShinRa, he thought wryly.  
  
(And why should I dread this? It is merely what I deserve......suffering the death of every death I have dealt a hundred times over)  
  
The Cetra reached for him—then recoiled, as they struck against an invisible barrier. Sephiroth blinked—he certainly hadn't cast that, as though he could have done something to stop millions of Ancients all howling for his blood anyway. He started when a voice spoke, causing his bones to vibrate. It came from no particular direction, rumbling around, below, and above him. It was deep, resonant, filled with infinite wisdom borne from long years of life. It resonated with sorrow, joy, anger, dignity, and a profound, heart-wrenching love for those who were ever born upon its soil.  
  
It was the voice of the Planet.  
  
Hold, Ancients.  
  
The souls of the long-dead Cetra were stunned, and together they rose in a glimmering, emerald mist, their voices clamoring in a rising plea, one word repeated constantly—revenge.  
  
Have you forgotten then, my children, that to forgive is to be merciful? You have neglected to remember in your blind quest for vengeance how this man before you has been wronged. True, he has hurt us, hurt us badly, and it will be millennia before I can recover from the taint of Jenova and ShinRa, but it should not lessen our sorrow for what he has lost, from his very birth.  
  
The Cetra went still, sucking in a collective breath.  
  
"I don't need forgiveness," Sephiroth said bitterly, his voice ringing clear and echoing through the shining green. "Just give me to them......why the hell do you care so much about me now, Planet? I thought if anyone had justification to torture me it would be you, most of all."  
  
The Cetra hissed agreeably in response, gathered like a coiled snake preparing to strike. Yes......give him to us......crush tear destroy smash!  
  
You are just another lost soul, Sephiroth, used and discarded, like so many before you, the Planet replied gently. It is my duty to help you......all of you. And now, forgive me for the liberty I am about to take.  
  
Sephiroth almost laughed at the irony of the last statement, but instead a groan escaped his lips as the green invaded his thoughts, prodding here and there, stirring loose old memories he'd worked hard at forgetting. A whimper escaped his lips, then turned into a near-hysterical laugh of amusement—the great Sephiroth, who'd single-handedly winning the entire Wutai campaign, whimpering over a few memories of old times?  
  
But...these were no ordinary memories.  
  
(Needles, cold, glinting in the white, sterile light......)  
  
(White coats, passing in a whisper of cloth, greasy black hair......)  
  
(Watching self-inflicted and scalpel scars healing and fading rapidly, leaving his skin clear and unmarked......)  
  
(Black, on livid flesh—the tattoo, I......)  
  
He moaned and clutched his aching head as every remembrance of his time under Hojo's 'supervision' flooded his thoughts with sweet, exquisite agony, becoming reality. He felt needles sliding under his skin, the Mako searing and burning sensitive nerves, heard the sobs of a little boy, alone by himself, in the cold, uncaring darkness......  
  
"AH NOOOOOOO!"  
  
He barely recognized that scream of anguish as his own, his mind reeling, a ten year old boy one moment and an adult the next, his lips repeating the phrase he'd whispered to himself the day he'd been accepted into the SOLDIER program—"I'll be powerful, and no one will ever be able to hurt me again. I'll.......be my own person."  
  
(A flash of Zack, with his easy grin, the closest thing he'd ever had as a true friend......)  
  
(Aeris, smiling sadly at him as her green eyes glazed over, the spark of vitality glowing in their depths dying forever......)  
  
(Nibelheim, burning, burning, those god-awful screams......)  
  
"Stop it!" he half- snarled, half-wept at the sea of watchful, the assembled Cetra. "Make your Planet stop it, for Ifrit's sake!"  
  
The Cetra shimmered. The Planet is not ours to command. "Damn you!" Sephiroth swore, tears flooding his green eyes, as both physical and mental agony, locked away for so many years and now pouring free in an emotional torrent, lashed at his battered soul with whips of guilt, regret, and self-recrimination. "Damn you!"  
  
(Zack, shocked, reaching out......)  
  
(The Masamune, in his friend's chest, so much blood, all over his own hands......could there be so much blood in a human being? Spilling everywhere......Zack's eyes, staring, sorrowful......)  
  
"Please!" he shouted, the pain finally goading him to an almost animal desperation.....a need to escape the nightmare.  
  
A dark shadow in his thoughts rippled, spreading like black silk over the mirror of his contemplation. Kill them kill them all......  
  
"Jenova? Mother?" he sighed.  
  
I will grant you power, the world......my son. Together we will have it all......and no one can ever hurt you again......  
  
And with that velvety, husky voice that had promised him all he had ever dreamed of, came the old bloodlust and madness, striking like sinuous vipers at the core of his tenuous sanity. Confused, he fought it, and the Planet fought with him. The black shard of Jenova, still nestled within a dusty corner of his mind, hissed and snarled like a cornered cat, slowly giving ground.  
  
To him, the short but hard-fought battle took centuries, but here in this timeless plane, it was but the passing of a micro-second. The green of the cleansing Lifestream washed over it, drowning it. A heavy weight seemed to lift off Sephiroth's shoulders, and he stood up straighter. The Cetra's murmurs of approval rose and drowned out Jenova's final, defeated growls of anger.  
  
Jenova was gone.  
  
The weight of a million accusing eyes pressed upon him—the Cetra, calmed but still savage. Other eyes haunted his memory—blue, Mako-drenched eyes, green, brown, crimson, black, some filled with anger, some with respect, some with wild, searing hatred, and always, always the fear. Some of those were dead, their terror-stricken gazes chiseled deep into his soul as he made the final, killing blow. Crumpled forms, littering the ground, Masamune streaked red with their blood, red with the light of the reflected flames, the echoes of their dying screams resounding on in his ears long after his victims had died......  
  
Jenova was gone. But he had yet to be forgiven.  
  
He spoke, to the Cetra, the Planet. "I may be dead......but the Lifestream has not accepted me. Nor will it ever. It is not enough that I am......sorry." He said the last with a soft wistfulness, and his proud, craggy frame slumped a little.  
  
The Planet cradled him close, surrounding him with its comforting warmth, crooning to him gently like a mother to her child......the mother he had never known. Lucretia, who had died shortly after his birth.  
  
"The quality of mercy is unstrained  
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven  
Blessing all, from lowly beggar to gentle saint  
And by its touch even the fallen can be forgiven."  
  
Sephiroth was silent. The Planet continued, And thus this is my act of mercy. Perform for me a deed, and you will be redeemed. If you fail, it will be your penance to forever wander the borders of the living and dead as a restless wraith. Are you resolved?  
  
"It's not like I have a choice, does it?" Sephiroth's lips tightened, and his turquoise eyes burned, "I'll do whatever it takes......to know peace again. What is it that I must accomplish?"  
  
There are other words out there, Sephiroth the Planet intoned solemnly. One of them is called......Gaia. She teeters on the brink of war, but there is a darker power fueling it. Even now the Children of Fate are being drawn together to fight the evil. And this is my charge: Join them, aid them on their quest. When all is well, you shall receive your wish. I will send you there if you are truly firm in your decision.  
  
"Of course," was his prompt reply. "That sounds rather.....vague," Sephiroth commented seriously. "How will I know them?"  
  
You will know. The Planet's voice receded, like a wave falling back into the sea, as though it was drawing away from him. You will know......will know......will know......know......  
  
One lone Cetra stepped out of the mass of Ancients. She was translucent and her image wavered constantly, but even so Sephiroth could see the ribbon threaded among her chestnut locks and the basket of flowers hanging gaily on her arm. Her eyes shone a tantalizing, glittering green, and her pink dress rippled in an invisible breeze. Their eyes locked, across an immeasurable distance, and her lips parted in a warm smile brimming with sincerity.  
  
Godspeed, she whispered, and with that the flower girl turned and melted back in among the Cetra once more.  
  
"Aeris?" Sephiroth murmured in wonder, but his surroundings were fading fast in bright, cool green light. The Cetra vanished, until all Sephiroth could see was soft, pulsing green that stretched in all directions. Exhaustion pressed heavily on him, and for the first time since he was a child, he drifted into peaceful slumber.  
  
Author: So? Do you like it? Do you like it? ~jumps up and down~ Please review or I'll never forgive you! ~pouts~ 


	2. 1: On to Gaia!

Disclaimer: I do not own Shakespeare, Sephiroth, the Planet or Gaia blah blah blah... but Keire, Arne and Avine are MINE! ~grabs OCs and looks around suspiciously ~  
  
Author's Note: FF.net KEEPS swallowing my italics so I'll change the words of the Planet to –words—. Okay? Also, anyone recognized the first two lines of my li'l poem in the prologue? It's a quote from Act Four in the Merchant of Venice by Shakespeare, which I'm studying for lit this year. Also, I'm using a lot of OCs in my story, so be warned if you don't like Ocs. (I promise, no Mary Sues or whatever.) Okay, enough of my blabbing. Let the story begin!  
  
Chapter One: On to Gaia!  
  
Arne Leonheart stared morosely at the report he held clutched in his hand, its words black and crisp against the paper, blaring its bad news (an understatement, indeed) out to his eyes. He released his breath in one, long exasperated sigh, crushing the paper in his fist and lobbing it onto his bed. He sank down on the mattress with a groan and stared at the ceiling, sighing almost exaggeratedly again.  
  
"What's up, mate?" his best friend, Keire Wulcan, asked, stretched out comfortably on his carpet. He blinked his crimson-hued brown eyes lazily, brushing a lock of dark amber hair from his forehead.  
  
He continued, "You've been sighing and groaning ever since young Kate brought you that letter from the Head earlier. You look like, well, someone has died." He rolled over and fixed his friend with a curious gaze. "Keen to share?"  
  
Arne plopped onto his belly and propped his chin on his hands. "It's frickin' disastrous," he muttered flatly. "Worse that worst. Y'know, remember Avine Swifter?"  
  
"The sorceress?" Keire inquired. "Last I heard, she was happily staying with Edea at Centra learning the finer points of being Hyne's daughter." He sat up straighter, and his eyes opened wide. "Aw, shit—don't tell me that something..."  
  
He trailed off, unable to finish. Arne nodded solemnly. "Fine, I won't tell you. But you'll find out about it anyway. The Head's called a meeting for all of the instructors, SeeDs of senior rank, and chief-of-departments to attend at the Gathering Hall this evening. She's already sent messages, flagged red, to the necessary peoples' coms."  
  
"Cheerful." Keire grimaced and shook his head. "She's a sorceress, Arne. Just how did this happen?" "An inexperienced one, Keire," Arne corrected. "She inherited her powers from my mother about only a year or so ago."  
  
"Poor thing...she never asked for it, did she?" Keire shook his head in disbelief. "So, who has her?" He snapped his fingers, a sly grin spreading across his face. "It's Galbadia, isn't it?"  
  
"No prizes for winning," Arne drawled. "But there's definitely a major chance of Galbadia being involved. "That nation's been power hungry for, like, forever, and the situation definitely hasn't been improved by that guy, Edigier Deling, coming into power. Nephew of the Deling from the second Sorceress War, and certainly as ruthless as, if not more, as his late uncle. They've been trying to get Rinoa on their side for a long time, but Mom's way too crafty to get snared. Whereas Avine hasn't got that kind of experience..." his voice trailed away miserably.  
  
"Our spies have detected increase ratings in the manufacturing of weapons and intense training of the soldiers. Every able young man has been dragged out to join the infantry. Galbadia's definitely up to something," Keire offered helpfully.  
  
"However," he added thoughtfully after a period of observation, "It's definitely unwise to argue with a guy who has the bigger army, more money and greater resources to draw upon, hmmm?"  
  
"And it's not like we have any real evidence," Arne said in a tone of absolute depression.  
  
"Well, did you expect Galbadia to leave a big sign saying, "Hi, it's me I kidnapped your sorceress?" Keire asked with a snort. "Cheer up, Arne, we've faced worse situations than these. It'll be cleared up in no time."  
  
"It's not that," Arne said softly. "Only you, me, my parents, the headmistress and a handful of the other instructors knew that Avine would be spending a month at Edea's place. Either we've got a leak in our network the size of a Ruby Dragon or..." He dropped his voice. "There's a spy."  
  
"So why're you telling me this?" Keire asked, startled.  
  
Arne blew out a breath softly. "Because I trust you," he said brusquely. "And you had better not give me reason to doubt that trust."  
  
"Hell, I wouldn't, Arne!" Keire hastened to reassure his suddenly moody friend. "We're pals!"  
  
"One must always be careful," Arne replied quietly. There was an uncomfortable silence, during which the air grew pregnant with tension.  
  
The atmosphere was abruptly shattered by a loud, piercing beep from Arne's laptop. The captain got to his feet and ran his hands over the keys. "Xu wants to see me at once," he said at last, with no change of expression at all.  
  
"What does the Head want this time?" Keire asked curiously.  
  
Arne shrugged. "She didn't say. You know Xu."  
  
"Yeah, I do, indeed," Keire said with a smirk. "The Queen of Mystery."  
  
Arne smiled, but in a preoccupied fashion. Keire reluctantly climbed up from his comfortable position and joined him at the door. Arne locked his room with his keycard and departed with a 'see you.'  
  
Keire watched his friend's retreating back with a sigh before heading to the Training Center to brush up on his gunblading skills.  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, in a forest east of Garden...  
  
An upright, round oval of leaping flames the hue of budding leaves in early spring blazed into sudden, unexpected existence a few inched above the ground. Birds chirped in fright and deserted nearby trees in droves. The curious and more bolder creatures ventured close in hopes that a good meal might suddenly fall out.  
  
Something did fall out, causing them to retreat in alarm. It was a tall, lean figure with silver hair, who fell onto his hands and knees before leaping up in a second, eyes peering alertly at his surroundings. He stumbled a little, still somewhat confused to be back in a solid, material body.  
  
Behind him, the fiery emerald gate shrank and closed, resealing the temporary tear between the material fabrics of the two worlds.  
  
Sephiroth was momentarily a little disoriented as he was abruptly awoken by his undignified landing on the hard ground, but his confusion was hastily swept aside as he found himself staring straight into the beady black eyes of what appeared to be a giant caterpillar, jaws opening wide to bite. Years of training took over, and he managed to recover, diving to one side as the caterpillar's mouth closed on empty air.  
  
Sephiroth rolled to his feet with the grace of a newborn calf, but at least, he thought wryly, it was effective. Instinctively his hand reached behind his back—to close around a familiar hilt, very much solid.  
  
(Bless the Planet! And I take back any rude things I ever said to insult it.)  
  
So he thought as he drew the gleaming, six foot length of deadly steel from the sheath that hung across his back. The Masamune seemed to pulse in its owner's hand. As though it was very much glad to be back there as Sephiroth was to see his beloved sword there.  
  
He grinned evilly at the caterpillar, advancing furiously and unaware of its imminent doom. He waited patiently until the monster was near enough, then swept the Masamune across in a vertical stroke.  
  
There was an explosion of blood as his sword tip streaked past and landed on the grass. The caterpillar teetered, having been neatly sliced into two. It slumped, twitching, onto the ground and leaking its fluids everywhere before fading away to wherever it was that dead monsters went to when they died.  
  
Sephiroth regarded the newly greenish-stained blade of his sword in disgust and wiped it as best as he could on the grass. He glanced around briefly for another foe which was foolish enough to challenge him, but they had all fled to a respectful distance after the short, and if he might boast, pathetically easy fight. Apparently else not all the monsters were in favor of being sliced into half.  
  
He trooped through the leafy trees for another five minutes before he came upon a conveniently situated pond beneath an equally helpful tree growing next to it, shading him from any merciless rays the sun might deign to throw his way. He first spent a few minutes prodding the patch of land and testing it for any traps, years of service in SOLDIER having made him an almost overly cautious and paranoid man, but hey, anyone who had been in his position would be.  
  
Besides, he thought philosophically, better safe than sorry. That should have been ShinRa's motto. It might have saved them. If they hadn't decided to play with forces greater than their puny company, they could still be existing now, with much less gil in their pockets but, on the optimistic side, very much alive and kicking.  
  
A parasite, feeding on its surroundings and giving nothing back but filth...yep, that was an apt description for the ShinRa, alright. He wondered who was in charge now. After all, old man ShinRa and his son Rufus were dead, by all accounts. \  
  
He dismissed his idly wandering thoughts, and, convinced that the pond was totally trap-free, sat down and concentrated on scrubbing the caterpillar's blood off from the Masamune. He gazed at his own reflection in the water lazily, then sat bolt upright and let out a cross between a sputter and a snort of disbelief a second later as it dawned on him what it was that he was really seeing.  
  
"By the fires of Ifrit," he breathed. "Just what has that cursed Planet done to me?" Quite forgetting his earlier vow never to insult the Planet again, I might add.  
  
His silver hair was still long, hanging right over his shoulders, but it was the face it framed that had changed, drastically. His eyes remained jade-green, shining with eerie luminescence even in broad daylight, but the perpetual wrinkles of bitterness and hate and vanished from around his orbs. His features were still his own, but very much younger, a face that came from Sephiroth's discarded memories of Hojo's torture, from a childhood he had never had.  
  
Somehow, the Planet had reversed his years from twenty-so to...he thought briefly about it and decided that he ought to be around fifteen or sixteen now.  
  
In the middle of this observations, he'd also taken note of his altered clothing. His black leathers were gone, replaced by a loose, comfortable black cloth shirt and a pair of trousers. A bronze armlet, plain but for a single oval stone that shone a misty green set right in the middle encircled his right wrist. A crimson scarf that reminded him inevitably of Vincent Valentine's own article of clothing was wrapped around his neck, held in place by a silver brooch fashioned in the shape of the Masamune, right down to the minutest detail, with tiny jewels winking in the hilt to represent Materia orbs.  
  
Speaking of Materia...he emptied the contents of his Masamune into his hand and examined them. Mostly green Materia—fire, ice, lightning, earth, sleep, time, cure etc. Seemed to be his own too, as they were all mastered. The last was a pink orb that increased his hit points in battle, to enable him to be able to take more damage than usual before he was officially knocked out cold.  
  
So far, so good, then. He placed the Materia orbs back into their respective slots, feeling, as he did so, a little more drained—the price to pay to be able to wield the magic of the Planet. He stood up, scratching the wrist of his right arm, which brought his hand into contact with the green stone on his new armlet.  
  
Something seemed to flash in his mind. He stumbled a little, causing him to sit down again with an unwelcome jolt. "What?" he managed to say before a voice rang out in his head.  
  
—Do not be alarmed.—  
  
"Do not be alarmed?!" Sephiroth said indignantly, after identifying his unexpected visitor as the voice of the Planet. "After you barge in my head like that without warning?"  
  
—I apologize for the intrusion.—  
  
"Seeing as you have spared my life, I believe your apology is all that is necessary." Sephiroth contemplated his armlet. "So this is...?"  
  
—The Armlet of the Cetra. It serves as a link between both of us, or you could phrase it as a telephone between two worlds. In addition to allowing me to communicate with you, it will protect you partially from status- effect attacks, such as sleep, poison, and so on.—  
  
"That is generous of you," Sephiroth replied. He paused, and looked faintly disgruntled. "Is it truly necessary to alter my appearance?" he asked, in hopes that the Planet would realize its horrible error and remedy it immediately.  
  
—Yes, it is.— the Planet replied, a trace of amusement resounding in his tone. –Garden will only accept students up to a certain age, so that there is time to train them before the muscles grow too stiff, and of course, so that there is sufficient time for loyalty to the SeeDs to set in.—  
  
"Garden? SeeDs?" Sephiroth muttered, completely lost.  
  
The Planet hastened to explain. –A military organization much like SOLDIER without the Mako treatments. Founded by Cid Kramer—  
  
"Not another Cid Highwind, I hope," Sephiroth commented.  
  
The Planet proceeded as though there had been no interruption. –and his wife Edea around fifty or so years ago. It could be said, in the crudest terms, to be a group of mercenaries, who would sell their swords and souls to the highest buyers for money. But Garden goes beyond that. It has its own SeeD code, its own strict rules of honor. If it is an unsavory job, albeit with a large sack of gil to add to SeeD's funds, they will refuse. Of course, Garden's very capable leadership also contributes to this fact.—  
  
"Mmmm," Sephiroth mumbled, to show that he was listening.  
  
A small pink rose of amusement blossomed in Sephiroth's thoughts. –You are still quite a distance from Garden. Go forth now, and while you walk, listen well, for I have much to teach and you have much to learn.—  
  
"Very well," Sephiroth returned in answer.  
  
***  
  
It was late afternoon, drifting into the deep purple and red shadows of evening when Sephiroth got his first glimpse of Balamb Garden, the ingenious flying airship that had contributed so much in the infamous second Sorceress War.  
  
During his hike through the forest, Sephiroth had learnt a lot about Gaia's history from his ever-patient teacher. The Planet spoke to him of the two Sorceress Wars, the heroes, the nations, the four Gardens, and the state of the entire world.  
  
Sephiroth listened intently, tucking all the information inside a mental folder labeled 'IMPORTANT' in his head as the Planet spoke, to be opened later for future reference when needed.  
  
—In the last fifteen years a new state has been formed—Coruthary. Its founders were dissatisfied officials of Galbadia who broke away from the Galbadian Central Party and formed Corutharn, which spans the whole of the Galbadian Plains including land previously held by the Galbadian government, up to fifteen acres from the western side of Galbadia, now Corutharn property.. The city was built on the eastern side of the Plains. Though still young, Corurthary already faces the threat of war from its hostile neighbor. Galbadia has not been happy ever since the land was taken from them. Balamb is very much a friend of Coruthary, and it is feared that Balamb and Galbadia Garden will clash again.—  
  
He also took note of the Planet's words on the current circumstances of the heroes:  
  
—Ten years after the second war, Squall and Rinoa Leonheart wed, and had a son, Arne Leonheart, who holds the role of captain in Balamb Garden. Squall held his role of commander for five more years before leaving his post and going to live with Cid and Edea in their restored orphanage. Cid left his post to Xu Fraden, an extremely capable headmistress and it is chiefly under her guidance that Garden has flourished so much. The Leonheart couple help the Kramers take care of the children, though they leave occasionally to visit their son or teach some of the classes. Quistis Trepe is the headmistress of the newly built Esthar Garden under President Loire's sponsorship. Zell remains at Balamb Garden, taking up the role of martial arts instructor. Irvine and Selphie Kinneas have taken up residence at Trabia Garden, completely repaired despite the serious damage it had received in the war. They have two children, Lisa and Ivan Kinneas, who serve as ambassadors of Trabia and popular instructors in their spare time. I believe Lisa is on the Committee of Social Events( silent laughter ) while Ivan is the Co-Chief of Arms.—  
  
And the more infamous members of the war:  
  
—Seifer Almasy and his two friends have, too, settled down in Cetra under Edea's care. It is to be observed that he does seem genuinely keen for the world in general to forgive him. Edea does her best in speeding that process along.—  
  
And Gaia's new, one and only Sorceress, and her fate:  
  
—About a year ago, Rinoa contracted a severe illness. After she recovered four months later, she discovered that her sorceress powers were gone. A frantic check was made on any female that had made contact with Rinoa and eventually a girl named Avine Swifter came up positive, a student who had tended to Rinoa many times during her illness. It appears that this gift can sense when its host is dying and immediately move to another female to carry it. Recently, though, she has been kidnapped under orders of President Edigier. I cannot see who has her now, or her location. A black mist seems to surround her, and I cannot penetrate that veil.—  
  
"That is reassuring," Sephiroth informed the Planet dryly.  
  
—Be careful to keep this knowledge secret. It is not generally known to the public that the Sorceress has gone missing. There is a spy, somewhere, but again he or she has, through some means unknown to me, shielded themselves from my sight.—  
  
"Again, real comforting," Sephiroth muttered, a little troubled by all the doom and gloom the Planet was pouring on him. Make that VERY troubled.  
  
That was when he got his first glimpse of Garden, and his jaw dropped, a second before he hastily recovered his composure and just stared.  
  
(Graceful. Like a swan.)  
  
Midgar had been nothing compared to Garden. ShinRa didn't care about beauty, just money and practicability. But here, shaded with the dull crimson of the setting sun, just grazing the tops of the mountains behind the parked airship—which made a nice backdrop, by the way, he absently noted—Garden seemed to glow in comparisons, with its nicely defensible positions, as his keen soldier's eye, roving about, noticed happily, gleaming, offensive shark-headed, missiles poised to slay, and proud, silvery curves and arcs which made it pleasant for the human eye to linger.  
  
—Yes, your new home—the Planet said in his mind, a pink bubble of pleasure swelling.  
  
"Thank you for the effort you have made in choice of accommodations. You have immensely great taste," he said with a smile, his first, true, warm smile in a long, long time.  
  
—Why, you're welcome.—the Planet replied, with a cascade of silver laughter that washed over his mind with a pleasant tingle.  
  
He laughed, too, and pausing only briefly to slice what like an overgrown bug into half, walked down to the gates of Garden.  
  
Okay, that's all, folks, for this chapter. I had originally planned to write more for Sephy's first day in FF8, but I really wanted to post this chap up for any eager fans to pounce on ~grins~ Also, I may be inaccurate in my memories of the Materia in Seph's sword, so please dun flame me! Readers are welcome to make corrections, though. C'mon, Seph, let's go. Sephiroth ~points Masamune at unwary readers before leaving~ : Review...or taste my sword! ( A bit of Authory Advice: You had better listen. He means it.)  
  
A big warm thank you to my first reviewers for REALLY boosting my confidence!  
  
To:  
  
Hikari-Sephy Obsesser ( for being my very first reviewer)  
  
G. Zan ( for being the second)  
  
T.A. Skywalker ( for being the third)  
  
By the way, thanks for honoring my fic by making it the very first FF7 story you have reviewed! 


	3. 2: Meet the Bad Guys

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the names or places mentioned below, save for any OCs and Coruthary.  
  
A Word from the Author: Sorry for the slight delay. FF.net KEEPS crashing on my computer and I couldn't post this for ages. Anyway, lights, camera, ACTION!  
  
Chapter Two: Meet the Bad Guys  
  
"So, you want to be a SeeD."  
  
Sephiroth folded his arms across his chest and stared coolly into the almond-shaped, chocolate-hued eyes of a woman who sat opposite him behind a massive mahogany desk, stained a dark, reddish brown. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and there was an air of quiet, assertive confidence clinging to her that Sephiroth instantly recognized and respected.  
  
Whether that respect would grow into genuine admiration remained to be seen, but there was a strong possibility this would be so. She was so unlike old man Shinra, with his aggressive ruthlessness, and his son, Rufus, with his stuck-up, arrogant attitude. The only thing common they shared was guts: Rufus had that much, Sephiroth allowed.  
  
He glanced around the richly decorated office, with the banners of the various SeeD Gardens hanging from the ceiling, and tapestries depicting some famous moment in the Gardens' history. He looked back at the headmistress, saw the restlessness in her eyes, the irritable fidgeting of her callused hands.  
  
Here was a woman of action, someone who was not content to sit behind a desk safely away from the battlefield giving orders and growing fat, like a certain ginger-haired leader who was now dead. Sephiroth decided that it wouldn't be too bad to work under her. She knew what she was doing, at any rate.  
  
He dipped his head in a slow nod, sending his silver bangs cascading into his eyes and swept them away with an irritable hand. Xu watched him closely, brown eyes giving nothing away. Unexpectedly she waved a hand, saying in a rich, commanding voice, "Well, have a seat."  
  
He blinked, surprised at the gesture, then awkwardly did so. The headmistress of Balamb Garden began to interrogate him, asking him several questions about his background and the like.  
  
"What is your name?" she asked, busily typing something into her laptop.  
  
"Sephiroth."  
  
"Sephiroth who?"  
  
"Nothing. I'm an orphan." The silver-haired ex-general scowled, bracing himself for the inevitable "I'm sorry."  
  
"Tough." Xu poked at a few keys, and the computer emitted a self-satisfied beep. "Don't worry about it. Loads of the cadets and officers here mostly come from broken families too. Not many parents are too eager to send their kids here, unless they're former SeeDs or something. Can't blame them, considering the death rate." Xu sighed. "Do you know that only approximately 67% of the students here get to see their first quarter century? And only 41% can live long enough to enjoy their fortieth birthday. Are you resolved?" she suddenly shot at him.  
  
"Of course," he said calmly. (Well, that was definitely a new reaction. If all SeeDs are like that, I think I'll like it here.) "I came here to become a SeeD, not just to learn how to play with swords."  
  
"Oh, you're the determined type," Xu said, a faint smile quirking her lips. "Good. Hyne knows we've so little of those nowadays..."  
  
She gave an especially loud sigh and stared at her laptop screen for a handful of seconds while Sephiroth wondered just what had that been about.  
  
Xu abruptly shook herself from her broody mood and silently appraised the latest candidate for the SeeD program. She hoped that he could stand up to her expectations. The enrolment rate had fallen by half and the latest idiots who had signed up for more concerned about personal glory than SeeD's mission to be the defender of the peace rather than just a mercenary organization.  
  
She considered him in her mind—tall for his age, sixteen, he'd said—lean, with catlike, graceful movements, though a little pale, as though he had not seen the sun for some time. Despite his youthful features, he had long, platinum hair that fell in shining loops across his shoulders. His eyes were his most striking feature—emerald green, filled with wisdom beyond his years, and something else, darker, she couldn't quite grasp. If she looked more closely, she could almost—almost—swear that they were ...glowing...  
  
She shook her head, clearing it of fanciful thoughts. A trick of the light, nothing more. Well, he certainly possessed the physical requirements, and he definitely had strength in abundance.  
  
Terry, a fellow SeeD, had told her in hushed tones about how the teenager had strode confidently to the gate, carrying a massive six-foot sword across his shoulders as though it was nothing more than a bag of feathers rather than a hunk of steel that weighed a few tons at least with ONE hand. The depth she had seen in his green eyes also told her that he had much experience with just how cruel the world could be.  
  
She decided to give him a chance. In the morning her instructors would see how good he truly was with his weapon. But first...she leaned across her desk, brown eyes locked intently with emerald ones. "Why do you want to join SeeD?" she asked seriously.  
  
Most always got tripped up over that question, either because they were unable to express their inner feelings, or just because they didn't care. She wanted to hear his answer and gauge his character from his reaction.  
  
There was a flash of brief pain in his eyes. Sephiroth looked away, considering his answer for a long moment.  
  
(I was a murderer in a previous life. I'm joining SeeD so I can help save your world to make up for the fact I almost destroyed my own planet in my egoistical quest to become a god .)  
  
Somehow, he doubted that answer would work in this case. His fingers flattened on the desktop. "I hurt someone once," he said honestly. "I wasn't such a good person last time, but now I'm willing to try, since I was given a chance."  
  
Xu smiled. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a flat, rectangular metal card. Without warning, her hand curled back and the object was racing towards his head. Years of rigorous training caused his hand to leap up automatically. The card zoomed into his hand a mere inch away from his forehead.  
  
"Good reflexes," the headmistress complimented him with obvious approval. "That's a keycard. Your room number is engraved on it. You'll be sharing with Daniel Roheiz, another cadet, temporarily until you are officially a cadet in training. Just ask anyone for directions. And you can just check out the map in front of the command center."  
  
"Thanks," Sephiroth began, when an urgent pounding on the door rudely cut across his words. Xu pressed a button on her desk, expression bearing supreme annoyance. "If I'd wanted you to knock my door down I would have asked," she said tersely. "Come in!"  
  
The door flew open, admitting a young man with longish black hair streaked with dark brown. His hawkish, handsome features bore an expression of irritation that rivaled Xu's. Stormy gray eyes glowered, fuming, at the headmistress.  
  
"What is it, Captain Leonheart?" Xu demanded.  
  
The captain rolled his eyes. "Hyne, Xu! It's time for the meeting! The meeting you organized," he added pointedly.  
  
(So this is the Leonhearts' son.) Sephiroth mused.  
  
Xu cursed and sprang to her feet. "Oh, crap! Go ahead and tell them I'll be coming in a moment or two," she snarled. Arne saluted and departed, while she grabbed a folder from her cabinet and rifled through it. No ordinary human eyes could have seen the contents, but Sephiroth's Mako-enhanced sight could and did. His eyes caught the words 'Avine Swifter' and 'The Inner Circle' before Xu glanced up and caught him looking.  
  
"Dismissed!" she barked. "The instructors will see to you in the morning." She then proceeded to ignore him as he saluted and left her office.  
  
After taking the elevator down, he examined the floor plan. Garden's inner structure was shaped like a big wheel, with eight spokes stretching out, namely paths that led to Garden's various facilities: the entrance, the dormitories, the quad, the library, infirmary, car park, training center and canteen. In the center of Garden was a fountain sporting a single statue shaped like a fish spurting water out of its opened mouth. In front of the fountain was the command center, which he had just come out from, housing the officers, departments and the controls that flew the huge airship.  
  
"Hey, howtcha doin'?"  
  
Sephiroth started and turned to see a blond, flaxen-haired guy, presumably addressing him. The youth was about sixteen or seventeen, of average height and muscular, stocky build. Hazel eyes stared at him with inquisitiveness and forthrightness.  
  
"You're the newbie, aren't you?" he asked, with genuine curiosity. "Pleased to meet you, and welcome to Garden."  
  
Stiffly, the silver-haired teen nodded. "Yes, but I don't see how it would matter to you."  
  
"Terry—that's the guy who escorted you to the Head's office—told me. You're the only person around here with a giant sword and silver hair. Thought I would personally welcome you to Garden, and all."  
  
"That is touching, but I do not believe I require your assistance," Sephiroth declared flatly, trying in vain to brush his annoying companion off.  
  
"Why not?" the guy insisted. "I mean, you ARE new. Don't you want to get to acquainted with Garden?"  
  
The ex-general sighed in exasperated vexation. "That is my own business. And you happen to be interfering in it. Now, if you will excuse me—" He tried to shove past the youth, but he stubbornly held his position.  
  
"I'm trying to be nice, and this is what I get?" he sputtered indignantly. He raised an eyebrow at Sephiroth. "Listen, will ya? A moment ago the headmistress sent Terry down to tell me that the new guy would be sharing my dorm. I'm Daniel Roheiz, your roommate, okay?"  
  
"Roommates. Terrific," the silver-haired youth muttered with mock enthusiasm.  
  
Daniel was either oblivious to his roommate's sarcasm or he had heard and was ignoring the comment. "Anyway, Xu told me to be polite and not to act rude or anything. Couldn't you at least return the favor?"  
  
"My idea of a person being nice is when he shuts up and minds his own business," Sephiroth informed him coldly. "You, my friend, are doing neither of these two things. Therefore, in my book, that does not classify you as a person being worth friendly to."  
  
"Man, you're one cold bastard!" Daniel complained. Still, when Sephiroth began striding away, the blond youth followed. "Hey, do you even know the way?"  
  
"Unlike some, I am not an imbecile. However, if you wish to help, the effort will be appreciated," was the cool reply.  
  
Sephiroth soon regretted it. The ten-minute walk turned into an excruciating eternity of prolonged agony. Daniel kept up an endless stream of talk about everything under the sun, including his parents, dog, home, and more than what Sephiroth had needed to know about his love life, his weapon, his profession...not seeming to notice that his sole audience of one looked nothing more like a walking zombie, staring straight ahead vacantly and walking like a corpse. He also didn't seem to mind that his words and queries were met by nothing more than chilly silences, but just went on prattling happily.  
  
"...And have I told you that I want to be the best martial artist in the world when I grow up? The next Zell Dincht! Who happens to my teacher, incidentally. You know, THE Zell Dincht. The hero. He says I've got absolute potential, but I could improve more if I punched as much as I talked...people keep bugging me about that, for some reason..."  
  
"...My girlfriend's totally wonderful. She has the world's bluest eyes, like the sea. Her hair is like black silk and it has this hot scent that could drive a guy crazy..."  
  
"...Wow, cool sword. How did you get it? Swords are so like the Middle Ages stuff now. Hey, I asked you a question!" Pause. "Forget it. Jeez, you're no fun..."  
  
"...Erin—that's my sister—is getting married next week to the conductor at the train station though Ma threatened to disown her if she did. Erin was always so damn stubborn like a bear. Come to think of it, all us Roheizes are. Must be a family trait..."  
  
"...Weird name, Sephiroth. Balambians usually get sensible names, like Peter, Dick, whatever. You foreign? You have a funny accent. Galbadia? Trabia? Centra? Esthar?" Longer pause. "Never mind."  
  
After stoically enduring Daniel's steady stream of conversation, Sephiroth was ready to collapse in relief when they finally got to their room. Daniel slid his own keycard into the slot next to the door and pressed his thumb to the reader, falling silent for the first time in a while. The metal door opened to reveal a perfectly ordinary room, with whitewashed walls, a table, and a couple of tiny rooms squeezed in behind.  
  
It was certainly no five star hotel or luxury rooms, but Sephiroth, after the war in Wutai, certainly didn't care where he slept, as long as it wasn't too lice-infested. Sephiroth suddenly realized how tired he was. He hadn't slept in a real bed for months (attempting to destroy the world and become a god was hard work) and suddenly the sheets were looking like heaven.  
  
Without a word to Daniel, he took off into the unoccupied room and slammed the door shut, though not before the other cadet had managed to utter a "Good evening." He unlaced his boots and tossed them into a random corner. The scarf took a longer time to come off, because his fingers were fumbling so much, but he finally got it off. Last of all, he carefully leaned the Masamune against the wall facing his bed, then fell gratefully on the bunk. He curled up, closed his eyes, and was promptly out like a light.  
  
***  
  
In another city, far far away...  
  
Four men filed into the meeting hall, eyes downcast, though the room was elaborately beautiful, its walls and pillars made of gleaming black marble in which chips of sparkling gold were embedded. A thick down carpet covered the entire length of the room, so large that a small house and a half could have fitted inside easily. But these men's minds were distant, focusing on one sole event.  
  
They seated themselves at a long, oval polished table made of black, polished oak of the finest quality. Mythical beasts, carved with breathtaking realism, prowled fiercely up and down the table legs. Much gil had gone into its purchase, but what was that to a city that owned millions?  
  
Two already awaited them at the head of the table: one man and one woman. The man was seated; the woman hovered behind him protectively, turning a fierce, penetrating gaze on any who walked by. No one missed the silvery flash of her throwing knives tucked into her belt, a scant hair's length from her ready hand. It was said that she never missed a target.  
  
This was Tierna Telemont, the President's personal bodyguard. Some whispered that she was his lover. And no wonder. She was beautiful, impetuous as the fiery temptresses of legend, those who lured lovesick men to their doom. She was wild and feral as the Ruby Dragons that stalked the Island Closest to Hell, and only the President could tame her, for her loyalty to him was absolute. She had been trained from young, for one purpose only—to kill for the ruler of Galbadia, to die for him, if need be, to protect him with the whole of her being.  
  
But the man seated before her was far more dangerous. His colleagues, powerful as they were, knew with certainty that even their own ruthless ambition, their own formidable power could hardly measure up to the young man that was the power behind Galbadia, the sole reason everyone hadn't started killing rivals in senseless, bloody efforts to improve their own station.  
  
President Edigier Deling smiled at his fellows as they sat down, eyes locked onto his face expectantly, but it was a cold, wintry smile, totally devoid of warmth, for this was a man incapable of feeling. He was somewhat short, being only five feet tall, but his distinguished bearing and striking features helped ensure that his height—or lack of, rather—didn't remain a disadvantage. He was in his early twenties, in fact, the youngest man in the room, but the others knew it would be highly unwise to underestimate him. Edigier had killed men cold-bloodedly before, without regret or hesitation.  
  
Once, a party member had dared call the young president a 'green-eared babe in arms' and faster than the eye could blink, Edigier had stood up, drawn his gun, and fired off three rounds. The body of the Galbadian had been hurled clear out of the window, and since the meeting hall was on the top floor, everyone in the building had seen the corpse hurtling past the windows, a clear and macabre example of what the president would do to those who didn't take him seriously. Edigier liked to do this from time to time. Pull off the unexpected and keep his workers on their toes. It worked wonders for ensuring one's loyalty and silencing a rebellious Galbadian's thoughts.  
  
The four men shifted uneasily, as their President's steely gaze rested on them for a few seconds longer than necessary. Edigier's eyes were a pale, vivid shade of blue—if they had been had a couple of shades lighter he'd have looked like a madman. Instead they were mesmerizing, seemingly seeing through the most cunning of lies, the most convincing of facades. Of course, they would also have their own personal projects to hide. He made a mental note to contact the spies he had placed in their households later.  
  
The five of them formed the Inner Circle, which few people knew existed. The other four, too, were members of the Galbadian Central Party. Edigier had chosen them because they were more intelligent, more cunning than most. It was such a pity that intelligence was what bred ambition, and inevitably one of the smart ones would try to usurp him.  
  
The Inner Circle's main aim was to achieve world domination. Oh, not in those terms. The true mission statement was 'To bring about world peace by establishing a single government—' namely Galbadia. But that was what it meant, albeit cloaked in pretty phrases.  
  
By tradition, each of the four men at the sides of the table rose, naming themselves. Angus Feder, the Head of Military Affairs and the one currently highest in the President's favor, was the first. His shock prod (somewhat like Reno's nightstick I guess) hung from his belt, as dangerous as the man who wielded it.  
  
Second was Tycho Assanio, Head of Weaponry and Arms. He ran all the weapon- making industries in Galbadia, and supplied the massive Galbadian army with their wants—not an easy task. His deadly mythril spear, Peregion, was cradled close to him as a mother might have held a favorite child.  
  
Next was Krien Istarl, whom Tycho sometimes worked hand in hand with to produce new, devastating weapons. He was the Head of the Science Department, but he looked nothing like a scientist, or a person's usual mental image of a scientist anyway. He wore a somber outfit of black, a felt hat pulled low over his brooding, mysterious eyes, shadowing his features. Always he kept a gloved hand resting easily on his beam rifle, Frost.  
  
The last was Kenji Miaren, Head of Internal and External Defense. He was a tall, sallow-skinned man with unruly black hair and a sardonic grin he wore often. Despite his annoying habit to crack jokes at inappropriate moments, he was a trusted and valued member of the Circle, and also the best marksman in the whole of Deling City, as he always boasted to anyone who would listen. His shotgun, Assassin, hung at its usual place in a holster at his right hip.  
  
Five of them—the most powerful men in the GCP, the city, the whole of Galbadia, and they knew it. The most feared. The Inner Circle was not publicly known, but its members were feared by the public. They didn't mind. Fear was a tool, and they were not adverse to handling it to suit their ends.  
  
Edigier addressed Feder first, his rich and mellifluous voice filling the room, the kind of voice that got people's attention. "I have received word of your infiltrator's success. Congratulations. Also, commendations to your ability to find us a spy despite SeeD's tight security, enabling us to capture the sorceress easily."  
  
Angus shrugged, his confident smile never wavering. "Thank you, sir. As easy as taking candy from a baby, really."  
  
Edigier smiled, too, as he turned his attention to Istarl. The man's eyes shone redly as the fluorescent lights struck them. It was said that he had tested an unknown substance on himself and the experiment had gone awry. No one could be sure though, for if it had ever happened, the situation had been very effectively hushed up.  
  
"How goes Phase 013?" Edigier asked.  
  
Krien glanced briefly at the President before huddling into his trench coat again. "Fine."  
  
"Elaborate," Edigier commanded sternly.  
  
"The subject is able to follow simple commands. Magic levels are as highly as ever, even more potent after we fed it Hypers. If we weaken control slightly, the subject will be able to act on its own will—or at least it thinks so. In truth, it will still be under our control. A puppet, pulled by invisible strings, if you will."  
  
"I am glad to see there has been progress. There should be room for improvement, however. We want the plan to be perfect." Edigier smiled, a crooked smile filled with eager anticipation. He faced Tycho, who saluted as he felt the President's gaze fall on him. "Production is too slow. I want those weapons, Assanio. By next week, no later."  
  
Tycho nodded, inwardly seething, but of course he had no wish to face the same fate as the unlucky guy who'd gotten blasted out of the window. He merely gritted his teeth and kept silent.  
  
"Istarl, Assanio. I want the reports on the Manta Flare on my desk as soon as possible. What is the estimated time of completion?"  
  
"One month, sir." Tycho replied.  
  
"One month. It'll have to do. But bring in more men if possible." Edigier ran a hair through his mane of dark hair, an unnerving smile curving his lips. "She is getting impatient."  
  
The four glanced at one another. All of them had met...her...once before, and the feeling of smothering darkness and indescribable evil surrounding...her...had sickened even the hardened men. But power was power, and they were willing to work with...her... if she kept her promise and gave them their deepest desires. But Edigier seemed to adore that aura of pure malevolence, reveling in it, even. No one could understand how the President could stand spending so much time around...her.  
  
There was a moment of crystalline silence. Then Kenji let loose a loud, rude belch, shattering it. The President glared at him, clearly annoyed. Miaren waved a hand, grinning. "Beans for lunch. Sorry, Prez."  
  
"I wonder," the President responded coldly. "Miaren, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while now but you appear to have been avoiding me for the past week. Was it really necessary to pull back all those troops from the front to guard the city?"  
  
"Why not?" Kenji countered.  
  
"I'll tell you why the hell not," Edigier growled. "Coruthary MUST fall! Need I stress to you the importance of that? The faster, the better. Damnit, if we fail to take Coruthary, the whole plan fails! And she will get angry..."  
  
He got up abruptly, pacing like a stalking cat. Edigier's unexpected bark of anger caused the whole Circle to stir. Kenji was unfazed, however, as he stared unafraid right into the President's icy eyes.  
  
"Excuse me, Prez," he said coolly. "But it seems to me you're forgetting something. What about Trabia and Esthar? We WANT Balamb to join the war. But who's to say our friendly neighbors won't take advantage of the fact that the bulk of out troops will be at Coruthary fighting like Diablo's cursed minions? What, then? The city will be undefended—"  
  
"You worry too much," the President said coldly. "Rest assured, Trabia and Esthar will not interfere."  
  
"How will you know?" Kenji demanded.  
  
"Shame on you, Miaren. Have a little more faith in your President." He resumed his seat, leaning forward. "I have already sent countering orders. In an hour's time, three-quarters of the troops will be marching out of Deling City to Coruthary to join the others."  
  
"What?!" Kenji was out of his seat at once. "You can't be serious! Laguna—he'll come to Balamb's aid for sure! And the headmaster of Trabia Garden is on good terms with Xu—he'll help too! Three nations against one—Prez, can't you see?!"  
  
"I told you, I have already taken care of the matter," Edigier repeated in barely restrained irritation. "I am not an idiot, as you seem to think I am. I do look before I leap. Now, Miaren, sit down before I charge you with insubordination."  
  
Breathing heavily after his outburst, Kenji slumped down, eyes filled with anger as he glared at the President. Edigier did not miss the look. Here was another dangerous man to watch out for.  
  
"Meeting adjourned," he announced. The members of the Inner Circle began shuffling notes and putting them neatly into folders. They stood and bowed formally to the President, except for Kenji, who merely gave a curt nod and was the first to hurry out.  
  
"Feder, Istarl, I wish to see you in my suite privately," Edigier called. The two men nodded and flanked the dark-haired President, with Tierna trailing watchfully behind. Tycho cast a curious glance at them before going about his own business.  
  
At the door of his study, the President paused and handed a miniscule Farspeaker comm device to Tierna, who accepted it and waited for his orders. "Contact our spy," he told her, pale eyes glittering with malice. "Tell him we require information about...this." He produced an envelope out of his breast pocket and tossed it to Tierna, who pivoted on her heel and seized it in her hand. "If he refuses to cooperate...well, their screams should give him some incentive, don't you think?"  
  
Tierna caught on and grinned fiercely, obviously relishing her latest assignment. She bowed and departed at a smooth, fluid lope, an eager skip in her step. The President gazed fondly at the retreating back of his bodyguard before turning back to his two underlings, who stood waiting patiently behind him. Edigier favored them with a smile as he ushered them in.  
  
"Be seated, gentlemen. We have much business to discuss..."  
  
Yay! My longest chapter yet! So here come in the bad guys. I hope you don't feel that I've mixed in too much of the subplot with the main plot. In case you want to know, Angus and Kenji are two guys in my class I have reason to get revenge on. Expect major bashing! HAHAHAHA! Okay, I know I'm mad. If there're any major typo errors here that you can't stand, feel free to tell me about it. Thank you for bearing with me right down to the very bottom of this page.  
  
Till next time, bye!  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Jack of all Spades- for wonderful advice, and yes, I might go back to the FF7 world sometime during this fic, but that's not definite yet.  
  
hawke  
  
G. Zan-for actually bothering to review a second time.  
  
And before you leave—  
  
R&R!!!!!!!!!!!! 


	4. 3: Ghosts of the Past

Disclaimer: Whatever Squaresoft owns isn't mine, sadly.  
  
A Word From the Author: I really apologize if Sephiroth is a little OOC. During the whole game, there were only a few scenes to gauge his character before he went crazy and went around murdering people, so if you think Seph is acting weird please tell me. Your effort would be appreciated. Now, on to Chapter Three!  
  
Oh yes, there will be NO Seph/OC. It's too tough to write anyway.  
  
WARNING: Chapter may be a little gory in here. I don't know...maybe you wouldn't think so...but I think it's best if I gave a warning anyway. Well, move your eyes downwards and start reading!  
  
Chapter Three: Ghosts of the Far Away Past  
  
He dreamt.  
  
Perching high above, he plotted and waited, his long sword thrumming with hot fury in his grasp. When the spiky-haired puppet failed to kill the Cetra, he scowled, displeased, at Cloud's unexpected resistance.  
  
He let his eldritch senses stretch forth, sinuous tentacles curling around the area surrounding the girl as she knelt, fully engrossed in her fervent prayer to the Planet. She was nearing the end of her plea, and his sensitive sight caught a faint green glow emitting from beneath the pink ribbon in her hair. The Planet was reacting, answering her passionate call.  
  
That could not do. He'd have to finish off the job himself. He should have trusted no one but himself to complete the task. Jenova's shadowy influence twined around his thoughts, whispering words of dark approval. Mother was right. She was always right.  
  
It was now or never. He raised the Masamune high above his head and leapt. Long platinum hair streaming fanning out behind him, his cloak billowing out like the wings of a giant bat, he landed gracefully.  
  
The Masamune's aim was as accurate and deadly as always, and Cloud's cry, ragged with acute grief and anguish, sounded as the tip of the sharp blade penetrated her back, severing her spine and puncturing a few vital organs on the way through her body. The sword skidded to a metallic, screeching halt on the stone floor as it protruded through Aeris' stomach.  
  
The flower girl slumped forward, the spark of life already fading from her rich green orbs. The Masamune was the only thing keeping her up. Weakened from the terrible wound and massive loss of blood, she nevertheless managed a final, sad smile for Cloud and a gaze of supreme sorrow and sympathy at her murderer before she went limp and flaccid.  
  
Dead. Gone to join the other Cetra in the Promised Land.  
  
Blood stained the pink cloth of her dress, tracing its steady, meandering way down her lower thighs, and dripped slowly over the edge of the raised platform into the clear water below. Cloud's horrified gaze, still locked fast on the gory image of Aeris' untimely death, missed the sight of the faintly glowing materia that pinged and bounced from column to column into the pool.  
  
The man that had brought so much death into the lives of countless people retracted his bloody sword and calmly sheathed it. Aeris' lifeless body fell into Cloud's waiting arms as he knelt to catch her. His eyes brimmed with barely contained tears. Sephiroth was faintly puzzled, almost curious. How could a mere, unnumbered clone possess feelings?  
  
It was an enigma that had to wait to be solved another day. He sneered in response to Cloud's bitter, incoherent words and flew off, leaving Jenova- DEATH to deal with AVALANCHE.  
  
(No.)  
  
Sephiroth, the Sephiroth of the present, watched with an aching soull and despairing eyes. Above all his deeds, this was the crime that he deemed the worst of them all. Here was the girl, the one who had been willing to give everything, including her life, for the world and mass of humanity, half of whom didn't even give a damn whether she lived or died another day. So many people hadn't cared, but she had, and she had died gladly for those people's salvation.  
  
So he watched, a helpless spectator in his memory of a time and place and event that had taken place a distant eternity ago. Remembering every excruciating, precise detail. The color of the sky. The breeze of unknown origin that stirred the chestnut strands of Aeris' hair as she fell, her face so serene it was as though she had just closed her eyes and fallen asleep. A single, glistening tear, hugging the smooth curve of her cheek. The glint of light on the Masamune's smooth edge as it hurtled down, claiming yet another innocent life. The blood, leaking profusely from the ragged wound, leaving scarlet webs on her white skin.  
  
(Was there really so much blood? How could there be so much blood within one person?)  
  
He shut his eyes, willing himself out of the nightmare. But the chains of his exhaustion held him fast, imprisoned within the dream. He could not see, but he could still hear Cloud's scream, echoing throughout the whole Cetra city. He stuffed his fingers in his ears, wanting to hear no more, but Aeris' dead, glazed eyes then appeared in the void of his mind, staring directly at him, accusingly.  
  
Other memories came back to him. He was standing in the flames, exulting in the atmosphere of fear and fire that raged about him, feeding the dark fire smoldering within his heart. Bodies lay scattered about him, frozen in gruesome, tortured positions. For once, Sephiroth had not cared about performing his legendary neat killings. Each villager that had died had done so in an even more horrible, spectacular way than the last.  
  
He thought of his latest victim, a pregnant, mousy-haired woman, with perverted pleasure. He'd killed her unborn child first, slashing her swollen belly open with a quick, vertical cut across and spilling the half- formed fetus into the bloodstained dust.  
  
The woman had gazed at him in stricken horror. He hadn't cared, just enjoyed the terrified, powerfully grieved expression on her contorted face. She'd understood. The sword wound he'd given her was deliberately shallow enough to hurt her baby but not the mother herself. He wanted her to suffer before she died.  
  
And die she did, slowly. As slowly and painfully as he could possibly make it. He impaled the still squirming bundle of pitiful humanity with the Masamune and dashed it into her face, letting her see her child up close. She shrieked with maternal pain and sobbed, her tears mingling with the blood of her baby. After he had grown bored with the spectacle, he'd beheaded her with a series of increasingly deeper swings of his sword until her head was totally severed, still bearing an expression of absolute horror.  
  
"You're sick."  
  
Sephiroth turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. Zack stood there, beside one of the guards they'd brought with them to Nibelheim, who lay face down on the ground. Dimly he recalled that Zack had once been his friend, or at least someone he could trust and confide in. But no longer. Mother had told him...it was just him and her, against everyone else. He could trust nobody, now that he knew his great destiny.  
  
"It is nothing worse than what you human scum did to us," he said coldly. Masamune strained in his hand, eager to taste more blood. But something in him was strangely reluctant to kill the other SOLDIER. He lowered his sword slightly.  
  
Zack lifted an eyebrow. "Us?" he echoed. "Whatever you found in that library didn't seem to agree with you. This was a dupe mission, Seph. Hojo sent you here to find that library. He's lying, he always has been. Please, Seph, I don't want to kill you." His voice went steel hard. "Even if you aren't the General I respected, in spirit, anyway."  
  
He lies...see how the humans attempt to trick you? But I'll be here for you...always.  
  
Sephiroth narrowed his eyes at his ex-comrade. "Get the hell out of here, Major, and perhaps I'll be tempted to spare your life." He turned without another word and departed through the flames, their searing heat unable to harm him one bit.  
  
But Zack had followed him...and there, the Masamune had cut him down, just as it had sliced through Tifa and her father...  
  
(Why hadn't you listened to me, Zack? You might still be alive...and both you and Cloud wouldn't have to suffer hell all over and over again in Hojo's lab for five...long...damned...years...)  
  
He wandered his memories, seeking happier times, which came rarely. Professor Gast always had a kind smile and a nice word for him, but one day he had just disappeared with his wife Iflana...the boy had felt so abandoned and betrayed...one year later, he'd heard that Gast was dead...he was left alone again...  
  
"Finally! I've been trying to contact you for ages."  
  
(What?!)  
  
His bleak surroundings faded away to be replaced by the Sleeping Forest that guarded the way to the City of the Ancients. He blinked his jade green eyes in understandable confusion. That voice...it was so familiar...  
  
"Hi!"  
  
(It can't be...)  
  
Smiling cheerily, Aeris Gainsborough, whom he'd killed in cold blood, was standing right in front of him, brilliant green eyes twinkling merrily. The ex-general looked deep into the flawless, open depths of her eyes and, to his considerable astonishment, saw no enmity or hatred there. Why not? He'd condemned her first love, Zack, after all, to a horrible fate and manipulated her second love, Cloud, like a dancing puppet. She had a right, more than some, to hate him with the whole of her soul.  
  
Yet, as he had left to take up his mission in Gaia, she had bid him goodbye with a blessing of goodwill.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked abruptly, to cover up his momentary lapse in control. "This is...this is my mind, is it not?"  
  
Aeris nodded in agreement. "The Planet sensed your distress and sent me to soothe it. I hope you do not mind the intrusion."  
  
"Not at all. I am relieved, to tell you the truth. One finds it hard to face his memories when one has done what I have done," Sephiroth confessed freely. Aeris had a unique way of making even strangers feel comfortable instantly in her presence.  
  
The flower girl smiled as she walked through the massive, ancient trees, running smooth hands up and down the trunks. "I hope you do not blame yourself overmuch. It wasn't your fault...or at least, you do not deserve too much of the blame." Her mood suddenly changing, she leaped up and wriggled her way onto a thick trunk, her legs dangling over the side. "I like it here. It's so peaceful. It makes one think."  
  
Sephiroth scowled. "How can you speak like this when it was I who killed you?" he demanded. Aeris flinched a little, but remained silent. He continued passionately, the words pouring out of his mouth as though they had been pent up for a long time.  
  
"Do you know how it is, to live everyday with the ghosts of the dead? They're all here, living inside me, gnawing at my insides! I try to hide it, but when I sleep, they come! In droves, in armies. It's killing me. But I suppose it's my punishment." His voice grew steadily softer and harsher as he spoke.  
  
"You weren't yourself, and you know that," Aeris snapped. "Like I said, it's good that you didn't try to push everything onto Jenova and use her as an excuse, but I think it's time you looked at yourself as a victim rather than the sole cause of all the misery in the world. ShinRa destroyed just as many people as you, physically and mentally, through indirect effects of their actions. The world suffered before you came along, and it will still suffer years after you die. Don't act the martyr and keep heaping every scrap of sadness on your own head and seeing yourself as the root cause of it. You've been bad, but you've seen the light, you've become good, so, in the name of Ifrit's fiery hells why won't you just stop BEATING THE CRAP OUT OF YOURSELF AND GET ON WITH LIFE?!!!!!"  
  
Aeris yelled the last word so loudly that Sephiroth actually took a step backwards out of pure alarm.  
  
The duo stood there for a while as Aeris calmed down, letting out the last of her steam. Then Sephiroth said dryly, "Bravo. I had no idea that you swore so eloquently."  
  
"I had no idea either," the girl replied with a giggle. She quickly became serious again, though. "So, the point I've been trying to get across to your thick skull is that it wasn't ever your doing. It was Jenova who was riding your body and soul. It was your hands that did the dirty work, but the true mastermind would be the thrice-accursed alien blob thing from outer space."  
  
"Harsh."  
  
"Yeah, well. Jenova certainly didn't score much in the looks department."  
  
"True. I don't know what I saw in her." His jesting tone of levity died, becoming more grave. "I think it was the love she offered me."  
  
"The love of a mother," Aeris supplied quietly.  
  
"Which I had never known," Sephiroth agreed sadly. "Lord, what a damned fool I've been!"  
  
"At least you had a noble incentive. Trust Jenova to twist even an innocent thing like love into a weapon," Aeris declared. Her green eyes looked at him with sympathy. "But you know now, right? It was Lucrecia, not Jenova, who was your mother."  
  
"Yes, the brief plunge into the Lifestream before it rejected me told me that much," Sephiroth replied. He looked away from her, staring at some indefinite point into a tree. "I would do whatever Mo...that alien asked, because she would then shower me with praise, and I would feel loved. I would do anything just to gain her favor. Because, in an odd way, she did grant her promises, and I think, in the end, she did care for me a little. But she put world conquest in front of everything else, and that was what destroyed her in the end."  
  
"Did you love Jenova?" Aeris asked.  
  
"Maybe. I don't know. But she was the first in a long time to care, and I guess I was a little mentally unstable at the time after reading the books at the library. That was why I accepted her in the first place."  
  
"Knowing this, can you forgive yourself now?" Aeris queried, a strange note in her voice. Sephiroth glanced at her; she was staring at him intently. Seeing his inquiring haze, she patted the spot beside her and smiled. The silver-haired general shrugged and sprung up in a powerful leap. He heaved himself up and pulled himself into a sitting position beside her.  
  
"What does it matter?" he retorted. "The deal was for the Planet and your Cetra kin to forgive me, not me to forgive myself."  
  
"The Lifestream will not accept a soul that is not completely at rest. It is essential you be at peace with what you have done," Aeris insisted.  
  
"How can I?" Sephiroth snarled bitterly. "My deeds are too heinous. There is too much blood on my hands..."  
  
"Believe what you will, then," Aeris answered, shrugging, but looking vaguely disappointed with his answer. "I am not here to force you to forgive yourself, but to show you the way. But I urge you to forgive yourself, Sephiroth. It is the only way you will ever know peace."  
  
"You make it sound like it's so easy," he said wistfully.  
  
"It's not. But you are strong, Sephiroth, so I'll believe in you. Do not let me down."  
  
Impulsively she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his forehead. He blinked, splashes of color in his pale cheeks and looking very baffled at the unexpected gesture.  
  
"It's almost morning," she said, drawing back, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "The Promised Land calls me now. Fare thee well, my friend. We shall meet again in the dream world. Call if you are in pain or in need of my guidance. I shall always be watching over you."  
  
She leapt off the branch and took off running down the path leading through the Sleeping Forest. Soon, she was just a pink dot among the leafy boughs.  
  
Then she was gone, and the Sleeping Forest vanished like a mirage in a desert, leaving only darkness.  
  
***  
  
Author's Ending Note: YAY! Two chapters in two days! A record has been reached! Okay, calming down now. I know this chapter is pretty much irrelevant to my storyline, but I went ahead and inserted it anyway to let readers think more about Sephiroth's weird bond with his dear Mother (Jenova, not Lucrecia, DUH). I hope you get my point. I will be adding more SephAeris scenes in later chapters. Feast on that, Aeriroth fans! Again, it's okay to flame me if I have any truly atrocious spelling/grammar mistakes. And the first few chapters will be pretty low on action, but I promise more in the later part of the story. Hope action-loving fans won't mind too much. Have you noticed Aeris is somewhat OOC in this chapter? I mean, I don't think she swears. Not in the game anyway. But, who cares. It's my story, my interpretation.  
  
Lastly, a happy Good Friday to all of you kind readers who haven't nodded off during my long rant!  
  
Uh, yes. I've just added in a poem which I wrote some time ago. I just thought of it and felt it would kinda fit in here. Please tell me what you think of it!  
  
/Ghosts of the Past/  
/Haunting us in dreams/  
/In wakefulness/  
/Filled with fragments/  
/Of shattered loneliness/  
/To be filled with the despair/  
/That nothing could truly last./  
/Through our eyes we remember/  
/Bright jewels in steady streams/  
/Light against dark, surging currents/  
/Their smiles so warm, so peaceful/  
/Faces bright splashes of blurred color/  
/On a faded tapestry./  
(You smiled so beautifully that night)  
(Would you have done so if you had known)  
(What was to be?)  
/Ghosts of the Past/  
/Their touch cold, searing/  
/Yet comforting in their burning warmth/  
/They are there./  
/Lurking always behind us, hiding/  
/In a dream, in a nightmare/  
/Ghosts of the Past./  
  
Thanks to:  
  
G. Zan –for being a regular reviewer ~hint, hint!~  
  
Zero-no-uta –for your awesome praise  
  
Oh yeah, and don't forget to—  
  
REVIEW!!! 


	5. 4: Half Past Four

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that Squaresoft owns, though I wish I did. Hmph!  
  
A Word From the Author: Yo, I'm back! ~waits expectantly for applause~ Uh, never mind. By the way, I've just posted a new poem into the last chapter at the end so if you haven't read it do it NOW!!!  
  
...  
  
Assuming you have done as I said, welcome back. Sorry for the delay in updating, 'cos I had a giant case of writer's block. Down with writer's blocks! THEY OUGHT TO BE EXTERMINATED! ...okay. And now, ta-da, THE STORY!!!  
  
Chapter Four: Half Past Four  
  
It was very late—or very early, depending on how you looked at it. The moon had vanished hours ago, into the pitch blackness of the sky, wreathed in misty gray clouds that obscured the stars.  
  
The darkness that shrouded the man below like a cloak mattered not to him. To his thinking, he had walked in darkness all his life, so it should be right he should now feel almost comfortable in its embrace, as though it were an old friend.  
  
He sighed softly, letting his head fall into an open palm. He wasn't young anymore; his once fine, short-cropped blond hair was graying, and his handsome visage was lined with time and dark dreams. Another sigh, even softer than the first, flitted past parted lips, echoing emptily into the night, his only witness to his anguish. Around others, in the light, he joked and smiled as before, but now, in the absence of the warm sunlight, the barriers of his soul were stripped away, baring his dreadful secrets for all to see and revile.  
  
"...Why me?" he whispered, a bitter murmur of a broken man. He sunk to his knees, eyes fixed intently on the heavens above him as though determined to wrench some sort of answer from them. None was forthcoming; the skies remained still and dark, unmoved by the plea of a mere mortal.  
  
With a cry of ringing steel he drew his blade from its sheath where it hung at his belt, bringing to bear so that it hovered just before his face. He gazed at the world-weary, white face of his reflection, which stared back with silent turmoil in its eyes. The razor edge of the blade seemed to sparkle almost temptingly, and his hand trembled as his mind visualized that heavy steel weapon pressed against his throat, swooping it for one last fell stroke.  
  
(Oh, so easy it would be, for me, to sink into dreamless sleep, with one instant of pain...then all pain, washed away forever with one...single...stroke...)  
  
He lowered the weapon almost angrily as his indomitable will broke past the death wishes that clouded his thoughts and befuddled his thinking processes. That was a coward's way out, and there was no way that he would prove himself a coward after what he had made people go through.  
  
Not only that, his death would bring pain to the people who (surprisingly) still cared about him, and doom for two people whose friendship he had valued beyond all others...  
  
He smiled, but it was a mirthless, self-mocking smile. He had come back full circle again, hadn't he? What had happened to his oh-so dearly cherished beliefs, his honor? Back in his old role, and playing it as bloody efficiently as he had done a little over twenty years ago. He clenched his fist, cold anger consuming him, burning in his chest with a dull ache.  
  
(Ah, well. Nice to know that some things never change.)  
  
He smirked at the cynical thought, and at the same time, heard a low, buzzing electronically produced sound that instantly wiped it away. His time of peace, now measured in treasured, precious moments, was gone, with servitude in its place. A grimace twisted his lips as he reached up and tapped a spot behind his ear in a precise order.  
  
"I am here," he said emotionlessly as the comm'link installed there activated with a low hiss of static.  
  
"Good dog," a voice replied, its tone husky and clearly feminine, dripping with amused sarcasm. "Nice to know you are still alert."  
  
"Under these circumstances, as you should know, I can't sleep a damn wink," he snapped bitterly in response.  
  
"Bad dog, don't snap at master." Silvery laughter danced across the millions of miles that separated the two. The man clenched his jaw and did not answer, though the woman's biting words had touched a raw nerve deep inside his heart. He indulged himself by imagining what he would do if he ever got his hands on her.  
  
(And a knife, yes, and a few offensive spells...)  
  
The female was speaking again, scorn still evident in her voice as she issued instructions. He listened, growing more and more distinctly unhappy with each word, but forced himself to bear with it, hating the person at the other end but hating himself even more.  
  
(Oh, sweet Hyne...)  
  
***  
  
Sephiroth never thought he could empathize with those nameless ShinRa grunts whom he had dragged kicking and screaming out of their bunks in the wee hours of the morning more than once (many, many times until he had lost count, he recalled with an evil grin) and sent to do a hundred push-ups during h a brief career as a squad captain, but now he did. A whole lot more.  
  
Shaking unruly silver hair out of his eyes, he snuck a glance at his chrono, then at the sky. Half past four. Wonderful. Positively wonderful. He had been used to be getting up much earlier than this, but after going mad and running about murdering everybody, he hadn't gotten much opportunities for rest, and since he was now a mission to save the world (or help the heroes save the world, anyway) couldn't people at least let him sleep for eight hours out of sheer gratefulness?  
  
He shot an evil look at the backs of the two SeeD instructors walking side by side in front of him and chatting animatedly in damnably cheerful voices. One was a pretty redhead, with blue eyes as clear as a lake on a spring day, who had introduced herself as Mel Flintein in an irritatingly perky voice. The other had hair the color of dark honey, brown eyes that were an odd shade of dark red, and tanned skin, who called himself Keire Wulcan.  
  
It was him the silver-haired youth bore a special enmity for, since this instructor, instead of politely knocking, had seen fit to charge right into his room with the assistance of a master keycard, and scream, "Wakey wakeeeey!" into the ear of the sleeping ex-General, loud enough to deafen him for several years. He rubbed his sore ear gingerly and continued his silent glower.  
  
As though sensing his murderous intentions towards a certain blond man, the redhead turned around and smiled warmly. "Don't be bothered by our Keire," she said in a slow, drawling voice. "He may look twenty-five years old, but in reality his maturity level is really that of a five year old." She dropped back a little to speak in a conspiratorial whisper, "Some of us suspect that he was dropped on his head when he was just a li'l innocent babe in arms. Since then—" she shook her head sadly, but there was a betraying glint of amusement in her eye—"the poor thing has never quite the same in the head."  
  
"I heard that!" Keire yelled from ahead.  
  
Mel just grinned and added, "Don't feel special. He does that to all the new people. You were just assigned the wrong instructor."  
  
"I feel so honored," Sephiroth replied sarcastically.  
  
"Of course!" Keire announced, having overheard the last part too. He struck a dramatic pose, twirling an imaginary hat over his eyes, and finished it off with a grandiose, if somewhat exaggerated, pose. "You are speaking of me, Keire Wulcan, Master of Gaia and Beyond!"  
  
"Pack it up, Keire, no one's fooled," Mel shot back, giving him an eyeball roll, her tone teasing. "Everyone knows that you're just full of air and puffed up ego."  
  
The other instructor mimed a sad face. "How could you speak of your partner of five years that way? I thought we were friends!" he declared tragically.  
  
The two SeeDs continued their joking banter, with Sephiroth observing their light-hearted behavior with interest. Whereas the SOLDIER program had been strict, military formal and frankly, a huge pain in the ass, the SeeDs appeared to be a looser, rougher organization, its members bound together by friendly camaraderie and respect to form one big happy family. Since most of them appeared to be orphans, the SeeDs would naturally come to look upon their comrades as their adopted family, as brothers, sisters, parents.  
  
Sephiroth briefly wondered how his character might have been different if SOLDIER had taken SeeD's methods instead. He was fairly sure, from what he had seen of Garden's Headmistress, that she definitely wouldn't have tolerated sucking up a planet's lifeblood and sticking alien fluids into human beings. He could almost imagine her kicking Hojo out of the door onto his rear and badmouthing him for good measure. The thought made him smile.  
  
"We're here!" Keire declared suddenly, breaking him out of his contemplation. The silver-haired youth blinked and looked around at his surroundings as he and his two companions passed through a set of sliding glass doors. Here the modern seemed to end, replaced by wilderness. His first confused impression was that Keire and Mel had brought him outdoors for some strange reason, but then he realized that they were still indoors after peering up and seeing the ceiling with some difficulty.  
  
A dark, silent overgrown jungle, lighted by some unknown source of illumination that looked entirely natural, met his eyes, fenced off from the rest of Garden by a tall, twelve-foot high fence made of metal with twisted iron barbs featuring nasty looking barbs sticking out from it. From the rustling sounds of something big and dark shouldering through the concealing foliage, this was an excellent idea. It was certainly not a good idea not to let any monsters escape and go wandering around Garden eating up students for breakfast.  
  
Two huge nine foot doors, serving as the entrance and probably reinforced by steel a dozen times over, were held closed by heavy metal dead bolts. Keire led the way, grinning as proudly as though he had planted the whole jungle himself. "Our very own giant garden!" he announced cheerfully for someone who was about to go and fight monsters. "No pun intended. Featuring real, live creatures. No stimulations, I can assure you that they can bite—and they have very, very long sharp teeth."  
  
"Is he always that positive?" Sephiroth queried drolly, raising a silver eyebrow at Mel.  
  
She smiled in response. "Of course. One day I have to tell you about the time we ran into a Marlboro and he—"  
  
The blond coughed. "Ahem, lady, gentleman. Business before pleasure."  
  
Mel gave him a hairy eyeball as she shoved past him. "Like you ever cared about that yourself, you hypocrite." She slipped on a pair of wicked, deadly looking mythril claws that fit snugly over her fingers. "You open the door. Last time Xu gave me blue hell for scratching deep gouges into it by accident."  
  
Keire smiled. "And, if I recall, who just kept telling and telling you to take off those damned claws—"  
  
Mel turned and offered him a deadly smile and a clawed hand. "You were saying?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"Nothing," Keire quickly said, the very picture of innocence. He winked at Sephiroth when Mel wasn't looking, and with some difficulty, hauled up the heavy bar and set it to one side. He pushed it and the door swung silently inwards on oiled hinges.  
  
A blast of hot, humid air hit Sephiroth full on the face. (This is really the real thing) he thought, already feeling himself start to perspire. Keire shut the door behind them, before rejoining them, his weapon in his hand. Sephiroth glanced at it curiously. It was like no weapon he had ever seen before—like the blade of a sword welded to the barrel of a gun. Keire, sensing the youth's gaze on him, looked back and twirled the blade with a flourish. "Like my toy?"  
  
Sephiroth shrugged, drawing his own weapon. The long sword scraped against the ground as he adjusted his grip. Keire gaped at it. "I can't believe you ever got that hunk of steel you call a sword off the ground," he said in a hushed whisper. "It's so unwieldy. Can you use it?"  
  
"Obviously, or I would have been dead by now," Sephiroth snapped sarcastically.  
  
"Why not use a gunblade, like me?" Keire pressed. "It's practically the modern version of the sword these days." He lifted his strange weapon for emphasis. "You can slice and dice and fire off some serious ammo and the same time. It's easy, it's light and fast. Believe me when I say this baby can deal some cool damage. Like my friend's dad, the Leonheart. Best gunblader Garden, and including the world, has ever seen." He grinned cockily. "Why don't you transfer? If you can lift that oversized sword, you should have the skill to swing a gunblade."  
  
"No thanks, I think I'll stick with the sword," the silver-haired youth declined politely.  
  
"A weapon that deals double damage, and you don't want it?" the blond instructor rolled his eyes in disbelief. "And you're already a swordsman! You are well and truly mad, my friend."  
  
"I think my choice of weapons is mine to decide," Sephiroth informed Keire in a frost-laden tone, with an air of finality that left no room for argument.  
  
Mel giggled. "Don't get all riled up. It's just, well, Keire's mad about gunblades. He reads all the magazines ever published about gunblades. He makes it a point to be at every gunblading class to oversee it in case the instructor there makes some crucial mistake during training. He and the captain train together with gunblades at least three times a week and talk about gunblades when they aren't sparring. He gives every new cadet what we call the 'gunblade propaganda speech' in an attemot to make them take up the art of the gunblade. He sleeps with Fire Edge—that's the name of his weapon—under his pillow. He even asked for a gunblade-shaped birthday cake last year..."  
  
Her partner did not seem offended, rather more amused. "That was all true, except the birthday cake part," he corrected calmly. "I asked for a mocha- flavored one, round, no cherries, with chocolate sprinklings and cream." He turned to Sephiroth, a glint in his eye. "Very well, let's see just what you can do with a sword!" he stated solemnly. "Monster hunting, anyone?"  
  
Sephiroth smirked. "We shall see who shall prove the better in the end," he shot back.  
  
"Was that a challenge?" Keire asked with a broad grin.  
  
Sephiroth smiled. "Yes."  
  
***  
  
Okay, I know this may be a weird place for an ending, but I urgently needed to finish this chapter and post it since I need to study for an impending science and history test ~doom, doom!~ Also, I'm sorry if I'm dragging the plot on too long. I can foresee the main plot in about another five or so chapters or so. Maybe even ten. ~helpless shrug~ Anyway, see ya all next chappy and stay tuned!  
  
Signing off—the Author  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Majin Jin—for your kind words, but pls check your spelling in future (no offense, seriously!)  
  
T.A. Skywalker— ~makes face of sympathy~ yeah, I'm all loaded up with school as well. Thank you for coming back!  
  
Noacat— Well, sure hope you do! (keep tabs on this story, I man.)  
  
G. Zan—for still remaining a regular reviewer for the fourth time running. And about your observations about Aeris, you're absolutely right. I never really thought about from that angle before...  
  
hawke—Unfortunately, future updates won't be as quick as this one...sadly...sometimes, I wish school could just be abolished...~sighs~ And in answer to your question, yes, this is a story where the OCs, including the one Squaresoft character Sephy, shine and the canon characters pitch in sometimes to help, but that's it. I hope none of you object to a story based primarily on OCs.  
  
Lovely Princess Peach—HEY! Check up on Silver Shadows. Thanx. I was beginning to think no one remembered that story anymore. By the way, Silver Shadows is dead until I finish this story...I'm too busy to write two stories at once, and TIAL (There is Always Light) promises to be longer than I initially thought it would be.  
  
And before you go—  
  
R! E! V! I! E! W!!!!!! 


	6. 5: The Monster Hunt

Disclaimer: I do not own FF7, FF8, and its characters.  
  
A Word from the Author: Hi! ~smiles brightly~ Thank you for reading this fic, and please hit that little button on the bottom left corner of this screen before you leave. Let the fun begin! ~Aims a remote control and presses a button~  
  
Chapter Five: The Monster Hunt and Revelations  
  
Silently the three of them, spread out in a triangle formation, walked through the trees, keeping a sharp lookout for monsters. Sephiroth used the time to surreptitiously check out his companions. They moved with confident, easy grace, and they held their weapons with familiarity with the air of one who knew how to use them, very well. Mako or no Mako, he was sure that they would prove to be formidable fighters.  
  
The one thing that struck him as odd was the total lack of materia. It was possible that the two instructors preferred physical attacks to magical, but even so, they would still need at least some sort of recovery based magic if things got too hairy.  
  
Then the answer came to him almost at once, and he could have slapped himself twice over on the head for his ignorance. He was weighing the two instructors up as though he was still residing in the Planet, which he no longer was. This was another world, far from his own, with a totally different system and a set of rules. It made perfect sense that they would wield magic differently. Hell, he couldn't be sure that a Lifestream existed here.  
  
A familiar voice spoke inside his head, almost making him jump at its sudden entrance. –You're right—  
  
(Nice that you could drop in, but I'm a little busy here) Sephiroth mentally thought in response, wryness coloring his 'words'.  
  
—I am well aware of that, but there are a few things I wish to impart—  
the Planet replied. –First of all, do not use your materia. You would be hard put to explain their existence. The people of this world rely on the drawing of magic from the monsters to increase the number of their spells. But they can only cast or draw when they have a Guardian Force who is willing to aid them living within their minds—  
  
(Drawing? And why are these, uh, Guardian Forces necessary?)  
  
—All shall be explained later in a safer environment. For now...heads up!—  
  
Sephiroth broke from his telepathic communication with the Planet just in time to see a clump of bushes five yards away from them rustle, and then part to admit four monsters with tuber-shaped bodies and long, waving tentacles.  
  
"They're Grats!" Keire announced, presumably for Sephiroth's benefit. "They use Sleep attacks, so watch out for those." With those words he hoisted his gunblade back and threw it, boomerang style. The gunblade spun in a lazy arc, impaling a Grat, causing it to squeal before it slowly toppled over in a heap.  
  
Fire Edge cut its way through the Grat, and returned to its owner's hand. Keire smirked at Sephiroth. "One," he declared.  
  
Then the Grats were on them. Mel flashed past, her claws scoring deep, bloody gashes across the eyes of one Grat, spraying disgusting green ichors everywhere, including across Mel. She made a face as she leapt clear of the Grat's wildly flailing tentacles. Once she was a safe distance away, she closed her eyes, locked both hands together, and concentrated. A bright stream of energy connected the monster's and her bodies for one instant, then was gone.  
  
Drawing, Sephiroth surmised as he waded into the battlefield. It was a carnage, as the monsters were evidently too weak to be able to adequately defend themselves against their foes. He somehow ducked one Grat's blows and severed off a tentacle. The Grat scored a lucky hit on him, one tentacle slapping across his face and splitting his lip. Sephiroth ignored the small, stinging pain; the wound was minor, and with his Jenova-granted abilities, would heal in a matter of seconds. Just for fun, he removed the rest of the offending limbs with one sweep of the Masamune before slicing it downwards. The slash was so fast that, when he pulled the sword out, no blood stained its silver surface. The Grat crumpled, and, shaking his head at the poor challenge they offered, Sephiroth cast his gaze about for a new foe.  
  
Keire was doing quite well too. He finished off his second Grat and ran to help Mel with hers. The female instructor was having a bit of trouble due to the fact that her chosen weapon had a shorter reach and she had to move within the range of the Grat's tentacles in order to deal a more serious blow. Before Keire could join her, the Grat began to make an odd, whistling noise that covered several octaves.  
  
Sephiroth winced as the shrill, irritating noise penetrated his eardrums, but other than making him vaguely dizzy for a moment, a feeling he shook off easily, it seemed to have no other effect that he could discern. Keire also seemed unaffected by the Grat's attack, but it was a different story for Mel, who slid gracelessly onto the ground, her eyes shut. Her chest still rose and fell, so she only appeared to be unconscious.  
  
The Grat changed tactics as it noticed Keire advancing towards it with Fire Edge upraised. It scuttled away and released a weird kind of black sap that spurted out of what presumably served as the creature's mouth that landed all over Keire and Mel. Mel jerked back to consciousness with a start, and joined Keire in his stream of vulgarities as she noticed her new burns and the icky black stuff clinging to her skin. Just as the Grat prepared to send off another volley, it keeled over as Sephiroth's sword entered its system.  
  
"Couldn't you have snuck up faster?" Mel groaned, swiping at the jelly-like goop that decorated her face and clothes. "It's going to take forever to get this thing washed off." She cast a sideways glance at Keire. "At least he got it good too."  
  
"Thank you for your concern," Keire snorted. He glanced at the silver- haired youth, who had remained silent throughout their conversation. "You may be able to handle Grats by yourself, but you've probably noticed that they're a piece of cake. That's because this training center is for beginners, though it's becoming rather obvious to me that you know your stuff, and because you haven't met the terror of all newbies, the almighty T-rexaur..."  
  
From a short distance away, there came a loud, menacing growl that caused the ground beneath their feet to tremble slightly, and the musical complains of birds and crickets in the jungle faltered and fell silent.  
  
"Be careful of what you wish for," Mel kidded. "You just might get it."  
  
Keire smiled confidently. "Well, looks like one is heading our way. Normally I wouldn't let someone who isn't even a cadet fight one...but how about it?" He grinned, a flash of challenge in his garnet eyes.  
  
Sephiroth shrugged. "Fine by me." Hopefully this T-rexaur, whatever that was, would be harder to defeat. There was nothing more he loved in the world than just fighting against a flesh and blood enemy, the Masamune in his hand, putting his swordsmanship to good use...  
  
With another tremendous roar, the T-rexaur burst out of the trees, growling ominously, its huge feet slapping against the ground and causing another wave of tremors to resonate through the earth. It saw the three people standing there, and, its small brain determining that they would taste good for dinner, stomped towards them with obvious intent. Its mouth opened to reveal dozens of ivory, razor-sharp teeth that glinted wickedly. It looked very, very mean and extremely hungry.  
  
Sephiroth dropped back to talk to Mel, shouting over the massive beast's earth shaking roar. "Have there been any casualties during training?" he asked.  
  
Mel thought about it. "One or two," she said uncertainly, holding up a couple of fingers.  
  
One silver eyebrow arched up. "Oh? That is not very reassuring."  
  
Mel shrugged. "Mostly smart aleck cadets who thought they could take on a T- rex by themselves."  
  
"Don't worry, you aren't alone," Keire said cheerfully, brandishing Fire Edge. "You've got us super instructors!"  
  
"Should I be relieved or even more frightened?" Sephiroth muttered to no one in particular, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Jeez, what a riot you are," Keire said dryly. A huge foot slamming down inches away killed his humor, however, and he winced at the dinosaur's proximity, particularly its smell, or rather, stench. "Blech. Remember, ice magic, Mel!"  
  
"I'm not an imbecile like some people," she growled in response. She retreated a little and began to mumble under her breath, her eyes glazing over. Keire and Sephiroth took up a protective stance in front of her, hacking away at the T-rex's tree-trunk size legs, jumping back whenever its tail came their way.  
  
Mel, apparently finished, shouted, "Blizzaga!" leaping back and swirling her hands in front of her. The air became unbearably cold for a split second as a giant shard of ice burst out of the ground, engulfing the dinosaur. It shattered, raining ice pieces in all directions, and instinctively they ducked. The shards, however, faded away harmlessly, and the dinosaur emerged out of the storm alive, but weaving like a drunkard and decidedly worse off.  
  
Mel resumed another spellcasting stance and started off another chant. Confident that the T-rex, which was now stumbling around with a weaving gait and dulled eyes, would no longer pose any serious harm to her, the two men abandoned their post to launch more formidable assaults on the weakened monster.  
  
Keire was the first to act, somersaulting up, one hand catching hold of one of the uneven ridges on the dinosaur's spine. The T-rex, sensing his unwelcome presence, attempted to shake him off, but Keire secured his position by driving Fire Edge into the dinosaur's thick hide. The T-rex shrieked with more rage than pain and wriggled itself harder.  
  
The ploy was only partly successful as he was unable to fully penetrate the T-rex's thick skin. He was in a difficult position to drive the sword deeper as the 'ground' kept swaying beneath his feet. All he could do now was to grit his teeth and continue hanging on tightly to his gunblade.  
  
Sephiroth was faring better. Since the dinosaur was fully occupied with shaking Keire off, it failed to notice the addition of a second intruder, who was rapidly scaling up the dinosaur's leg. Catching hold of a few armored plates sticking out from the T-rex's kneel, he leaned out and slashed the Masamune across the T-rex's more exposed belly with the whole of his prodigious strength.  
  
Hot blood fell in huge droplets from the wound, scalding him where they landed on his skin. Smoke rose from his clothes where the blood fell. The Masamune flashed one more time, and the drops became a veritable downpour of crimson fluid. Seizing the opportunity, he shoved his hand deep within the gash and released the strongest Ice spell he knew.  
  
Too late, he remembered the Planet's warning against using magic. But as the spell blossomed to frigid life within the very guts of the dinosaur, Mel's second Blizzaga spell, completed, took effect at almost the same time. The temperature lowered by several unbearable degrees, serving as a warning to Sephiroth and Keire, who leaped clear, landing on the ground in a ball to reduce the risk of broken bones. Their foe, literally frozen dinosaur steak, landed with a huge crash that must have shook the whole of Garden.  
  
The two swordsmen picked themselves off the ground, shaken and bruised but unhurt. They walked over to Mel, who was admiring her handiwork, and unknown to her, Sephiroth's as well. "Wow, I've never seen my Blizzaga spells so powerful before!" she exclaimed, a surprised, and almost suspicious, expression on her face.  
  
"Glad that you've improved, Mel." Keire clapped her on the shoulder. He toed the still corpse of the fallen dinosaur. Even as they watched, the gigantic body was beginning to fade out of existence. "Good work, everyone. And Sephiroth..."  
  
The youth turned towards the instructor, with a curious expression. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"I've yet to submit my report, but I think that when Xu sees it, she's going to love you." The instructor smiled. "Maybe this is a bit premature, but—" he held out his hand. "Welcome to Balamb Garden."  
  
Sephiroth looked at it. He inclined his head. "Thank you, sir, for your kind words."  
  
"The hand," Keire insisted, waggling it practically in Sephiroth's face.  
  
Sephiroth sighed and shook it. "What do I do now until whatever?" he asked.  
  
"You have the day off to do whatever you want," Keire answered immediately. "Just take the time to appreciate Garden...it's going to become your new home, after all. The canteen serves the best hot dogs, by the way, if you want to try some Garden dishes."  
  
The trio started walking back to the exit. Other than another pack of Grats, which they disposed off with no difficulty at all, they departed without further incident. At the entrance, Keire turned back to Sephiroth with his confident grin firmly in place and said cheerfully, "You win this round. I look forward to fighting with you again, even if you're only a lowly cadet. But you're a natural with that sword, you know. I think you will have a great future in the mercenary world. Honestly. You won't win next time though, I promise you that!" He winked.  
  
Sephiroth had to smile at the instructor's oddly endearing exuberance. "We shall see, sir."  
  
Keire laughed and the two instructors waved a friendly goodbye, sauntering off and leaving Sephiroth to his own devices. As soon as they were out of sight, the silver-haired youth gently tapped on his bracelet with a fingernail, alerting the far away Planet to his wish to talk. "You still owe me that explanation on this world's magic, in case the matter has slipped whatever passes for your mind."  
  
—You shall find what you seek in the library—was the Planet's only enigmatic response.  
  
Sephiroth sighed but did as the Planet asked. He was directed down a path marked with a blue stripe and led to a secluded corner of the library, where he found himself staring at a shelf crammed with books devoted to the study of magic. Of its own accord, his right hand, the one with the Armlet of the Cetra, reached out, and grabbed a seemingly random book, and even helpfully flipped it open to a specific page.  
  
Startled, Sephiroth flexed his fingers to make sure that all was in order before turning his attention to the volume he held in his hands. It was bound in night blue leather and looked very old and worn compared to the glossier spines of the other books sitting on the shelf. Its title was printed on the cover in peeling gold lettering: 'A History of Magic—since the Beginning' by a person named Dr. Finnibus Wilson.  
  
The message was very clear, so Sephiroth retired to one of the tables in the corner and, burying his nose in the yellowing, dusty pages, began to read.  
  
***  
  
In the beginning, there was a void. But the nothingness demands to be filled, and various worlds were born out of a theory called 'The Big Bang.' Yet, for Gaia, the world was created by a mighty entity named Hyne, who in legends have been described as a powerful, sexless being both benevolent and capricious.  
  
In Gaia, the flow of life is the magic. The monsters came about by wyld magic, which was concentrated mostly on the Moon, but later they appeared too in the earth. But it was the first humans that were Hyne's pride and joy. They had been formed personally by his loving hand, and thy had been infused with his life giving breath.  
  
In those days, humans were near immortals, powerful winged creatures that soared the skies and ruled absolutely under the watchful gaze of Hyne, perfect in form and unsurpassed in beauty.  
  
They were known as the Children of Hyne, and they called themselves the sorcerers and the sorceresses.  
  
But power corrupts, and barely a millennium since Gaia was formed, war raged among the humans. We have been always ambitious, to our ultimate downfall.  
  
Furious, Hyne cursed the battlers, turning them to terrible, deformed beings, a mockery of their former selves, whose hatred for Hyne could never measure up to their own hatred for themselves. Many killed themselves instead of facing the daily torment that was life. But there were a few who repented, whom Hyne spared. They, who had once conquered the skies, were now chained to the ground, fallen—our ancestors.  
  
But to two of the sorceresses, Auth and Maia, Hyne was merciful, for they had always been his most faithful followers. Immortality was lost to the human race forever, but he did not intend for them to forget of lose magic, the mysterious force that would forever be part of life. He decreed that Auth and Maia would keep their powers, and when their lives passed, the gifts would pass on to worthy successors, and there would always be, as long as time lasted, two sorceresses.  
  
Due to Hyne's curse, humans are now magic dead, unable to wield or cast magic without the aid of Guardian Forces, spirits which Hyne had formed out of the elements, second of his children. These were flighty, free-willed creatures, which would chose whoever they deemed worthy and serve them to the best of their ability, by lending them their strength in battle and enabling them to use magic for only the price of their memories. In this way, Hyne intended that magic would never be misused again. Examples of Guardian Forces are: Ifrit, god of fire, Shiva, spirit of ice, Pandemonium, guardian of the winds.  
  
These Guardian Forces, of GFs, as they were known, would reside in the portion of the human brain that holds the memories of the host, and after a while these would fade, and the host would have difficulty remembering his past. If the GFs are removed, the memories will return, but very slowly, and some may even be lost forever. Most consider this a small price to pay for the GF's power, however.  
  
The process of 'connecting' with the lifeforce of the GF is known as junctioning. Similarly, one can 'junction' the stock of one's spells to their magical defense/attack to protect yourself against a certain element or status effect or create a new, devastating attack.  
  
***  
  
Sephiroth frowned, laying his fingers flat against the book as he came across a painting of the first humans, their feathered wings spread, dark against the blue sky. Something stirred in his mind, and the lines in his forehead deepened as he tried to remember just what had nagged his memory.  
  
(flashback)  
  
—When you have become a god, my son, we will conquer the Planet...but do you know that there are other worlds out there, Sephiroth? The universe is infinite, filled with so many other lives and dreams...we will crush those dreams, as he crushed mine, eons ago...  
  
He remembered himself asking. "What dreams, Mother?"  
  
—I was the last one left...the others had all killed themselves in shame and misery...(soft, wistful)  
  
"Who? The Cetra?"  
  
—Others like me. (A flash of anger.) It was rightly mine! When we have drunk dry the Lifestream of the Planet, my beloved, darling son, we shall have the power to regained I lost, centuries ago...  
  
"Yes, Mother," he replied dutifully.  
  
(end flashback)  
  
He had not understood then. Now he thought he did, as he remembered his own dark, raven-feathered wing, all but identical to the appendages of the immortals in the picture.  
  
(Cursed, turned to terrible, deformed beings, by Hyne...)  
  
He understood, with clear, cold clarity, the revelation pounding in his brain.  
  
Unbidden, the voice of the Planet spoke into the numb disbelief of his shattered mind.  
  
—Yes. Jenova's name wasn't always Jenova. Once she was Adele, high priestess of the sorceresses, until she was cast down by Hyne. Once, she was a sorceress of Gaia—  
  
***  
  
Author's Ending Note: Ta ta! Done! Surprised? Shocked? I hope that this new twist is believable enough, and also that I have managed to be as accurate as possible about the legend of Hyne from FF8, since as I haven't played it for a long time and may have left something out or ~smiles wryly~ thrown too much in. Thank you for reading, and bye til next chapter! ~bows and exits~  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Delphine Pryde—really? Thanks!  
  
Noacat—Thanks for reviewing again, and in case you have noticed, though I have received the Review Alert in my e-mail, I can't see your review in FF. net. ~Shrugs~ Must be some kind of glitch. Ah, well, just thought I would bring it up.  
  
And now...  
  
I guess I don't need to remind you any longer what to do. I probably sound like a broken tape recorder anyway. But one last time, I'm appealing to you to review and make my day. Thanx! 


	7. 6: Forever Trapped

Disclaimer: The only things that belong to me in this story are Keire, Mel, Daniel, Avine, and a few others I shall introduce when I feel like it. All else is the property of Squaresoft, much as I wish it wasn't.  
  
A Word From the Author: I would like to clear up a point. Having realized that Adele's name is awfully similar to Adel, I would like to say that the two have absolutely nothing in common and are very two different people. Just for the benefit of clearing up potential confusion. Let the story begin!  
  
Chapter Six: Forever Trapped  
  
"What is a human being but a bundle of memories?"—Ed Greenwood  
  
Everything smelt and tasted of disinfectant.  
  
The black-haired girl closed her eyes, squeezed them together tightly to mask a soul deep agony that could no longer be hidden safely within the safe barriers of her heart. They had taken everything but her inner strength, one she had known she possessed, from her, and she would keep that as long as she could.  
  
Even her magic, the magic of the fearsome sorceresses of legend, the gift—or curse—passed down through the centuries to fall upon the shoulders of Rinoa Heartilly- Leonheart, who had now unwittingly given it to her, the new successor of Hyne's last gift to the fallen humans.  
  
The girl did not resent Rinoa. It was not her fault, nor was it her right to place blame where it was not deserved. Rinoa had not specifically ordered her powers to leave and find a new host. It had just happened, and she accepted the inevitable fact of it. Sighing, she raised her wrist, staring as if in a dream at the slim silver bracelet that graced her wrist like a handcuff and held her prisoner just like a cuff would.  
  
No ordinary cuff, or she could have just blasted it and the whole room to smithereens in the heat of her rising hate for this place. But her sorceress powers would be useless here, while the Odine Bangle held it in check. Indeed, if her logic was right, it was the damned powers that had put her into this predicament in the first place.  
  
She hugged her drawn up legs, resting her chin on her knees. She might have been beautiful underneath the streaks of dirt that smudged her face, but someone had robbed her of her natural vivacity, her bright vitality. Her heart beat and breath passed through her lungs, but her sapphire blue eyes were dead and tired, red-rimmed from exhaustion and tears. She lowered her head, her face shadowed by the temporary safety of her matted hair as it fell around her shoulders. It had been unwashed for days since the last time they had come to get her, and so was the rest of her body.  
  
At least she was sane now. Sometimes, after the madness had seized her, when her indomitable will broke through the gray fog, she awoke battered and scratched by her own nails, leaving jagged cuts of welling blood behind, drool slithering from the side of her mouth, her body twitching spasmodically, while hysterical laughter poured unabated from her foam flecked lips, innocuously inappropriate for the grim atmosphere. That was the least she could be thankful for, in this terrible, white place where no one left alive—or unscathed by the tortures her prison offered.  
  
At first, when she had first come, torn away from the warm bosom of her family and friends to suffer, in a place where love did not exist and the sun did not shine, she cried. She would cry hard and long, and got slapped for making a din. Her heart ached with homesickness and a terrible sorrow no balm but a gentle touch of a loved one could ease. She wept long after she had no tears left, in a new, bruised hole in the center of her once innocent heart.  
  
No longer innocent. In her prison, innocence, kindness, compassion, they were left behind at the door. Everyone who worked here had had the choice to leave or stay. They came here of their own free will, and stored their emotions away behind a wall in their minds while they poked and studied a still screaming human being.  
  
They were human on the outside, but deep within where no one but themselves could see (and did they quake silently at the ugly sight?) they were monsters.  
  
The technicians and scientists that hurried past her cell on some unknown errand did not so much as glance as her, having more important things on their minds, much less spare her a single ounce of sympathy. They didn't care that she was a human being; they saw her as nothing more than a valuable specimen, who could lead to tremendous breakthroughs in the field of science. They didn't give a damn that she was an intelligent being that had hoped and dreamed just like them, that outside the walls that held her caged were people who loved her and hugged her, who worried at her disappearance. They didn't know, or care, that her name was Avine Swifter. To them, she was just 'Test Specimen XVIII.'  
  
For a while she hoped, but as the days passed and the pain increased, the loneliness got to her, flagging her once optimistic spirit and beating down her hope. Even the strongest willed can let hope die when nothing happens to fulfill that hope. Avine held onto hope longer than she had thought possible, then it waned and hard on its departed heels came despair; a look into the endless future, of countless more violations and infinite 'experiments.'  
  
She wanted to die, but they wouldn't even grant her that dignity. They were careful; she was to precious to them as a test subject to let her die. So she lived a living death, watching with empty, envious eyes as bodies were carried out past her cell. Their facial expressions bore grimaces, etched on their faces even in death, but their hollow eyes had a peaceful look about them that made Avine long to join them.  
  
Sometimes they took her out of her prison, but though she was free of the bars, she was not free of the compound where she was housed in. Avine had never craved the gentle caress of the sunlight's fingers on her skin as much as she did now. No one ever misses something until it has flown away and is gone forever, out of reach.  
  
She was strapped down, and alien fluids were injected into her lifeblood, which scorched and seared her veins with unbelievable intensity. Her screams never got beyond the door, however; the room was sound proof, though within her cries were desperate and held an edge of insanity. She knew that, slowly, day by day, her mind was giving out under the pressure, and sooner or later she would break, earning herself an undeserved fate worse than death. To be living, but unknowing of anything but the imaginary demons within her own brain...  
  
Her teeth clamped down, chewing on her own lip, her world lost in a haze of roaring pain. She sought to focus on the smaller pain as blood trickled down her lip, but after a while, it was just too much. Bound to th operating table, with its icy hardness, she'd screamed and writhed long after her voice had shattered into shards of hoarse whispers, the merciless straps cutting cruelly into her tender wrists.  
  
After the pain had faded and she had recovered sufficiently, the only thing her numbed mind would register was the white-coated doctors clustering around, scribbling notes and talking in low whispers, then the sheer injustice of it all would hit her with the force of a Ragnorak at high speed. She felt hate as she had never before, and a slight twinge of regret, quickly suppressed, that she would ever have to feel this emotion.  
  
(Hyne, help me...one day, I swear I will kill them)  
  
Many other operations came after that, once she had recuperated enough to ensure her survival for the next test, so many that they began to blend together in her mind and she fount it impossible to sort through the tangled jumble of her damaged mind and find out which was which. Memories of her previous life grew worn and torn with the passing of time, and soon all she remembered and clung to like a lifeline was her own name and others, whom she vaguely remembered. Each day her hold on them weakened a little, and they slid back to the back of her mind.  
  
But Avine couldn't lose her precious memories just like that. She couldn't let her enemies win, and she perceived the preservation of her identity as a victory over them a sign that she had not yet been defeated.  
  
Sometimes in her dreams she heard a voice. She knew not the source , but instinctively she trusted it. A kind, motherly voice, that soothed and repaired the broken pillars of her mind. She could not understand the words, but she accepted the well-meaning comfort gratefully. No matter if it was just a figment of her own imagination. She would need whatever respite she could get at this shaky period.  
  
Gradually she grew to depend on the voice to support her. The owner of the voice appeared to care more about her welfare than even her friends, who still had not shown up to rescue her from her fate. At times she felt a surge of anger at them, they who had forgotten her and were undoubtedly gone on with their own lives.  
  
The voice agreed with indignant sympathy, then sang her discontent away.  
  
Her sense of time, too, distorted, and with her fragmented, disjointed memory and terrible burden, Avine opened herself increasingly to the voice, the only source of happiness in her miserable life. Soon, it spoke to her even in her waking hours. She could almost comprehend the words now. So close! ...so very close...  
  
She thought, sometimes, when it eased her dreams and turned her nightmares away at sleep's door, that it must be the voice of an angel.  
  
When the voice was silent, and the madness had retreated temporarily, she dreamed of blue skies, emerald meadows, the cool touch of the wind and the smell of life, of the newborn leaves in spring, and the eyes of the one she loved.  
  
But when she opened her eyes and her dreams vanished at the edge of her awakening, when she saw the gray, stainless steel above, below, and around her, cutting off all contact with the outside world; when she strained and listened for the morning talk of birds as they complained about the rain, and heard only the endless electronic humming of machines, she would rail and shriek at her dreams for the mocking deception and dash her fists open to the bone on the unyielding, cold, uncaring walls of her prison, leaving smears of blood marring its surface. Then she would be dragged kicking and wailing away by technicians who sedated her—not out of concern for her safety and well-being, but because they couldn't afford to lose her, not after spending so much on her already.  
  
When she awoke, her small face lifting to find the shadow of her captivity over her again, the insanity seized hold of her again and she was lost in the infinite maze of her own mind, turned against her, wandering its myriad, wandering corridors, trapped in the eternal darkness.  
  
...forever trapped.  
  
On the other side of the world, the man sat, chin cupped in curved hands, staring blankly into the glorious, endless vista of azure sea and sky, stretching into the horizon for eternity. His eyes did not see or appreciate the beautiful view, however; he was only pretending he was. Instead, the scene he truly saw was that of war, the inevitable war that loomed like a dark, threatening titan in the near future.  
  
He let his hands fall with a sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head back slightly. He felt the walls of his own cage closing in hungrily on him with malicious intent, and could almost hear the voices of his captors, shrill and hurting as those of harpies, sting his ears with high, chill laughter. They were the puppet masters, and he—he was the puppet.  
  
Dancing every time they pulled his strings—  
  
No.  
  
Now he was seeing the blood, hearing the screams, feeling the close, grim presence of the Reaper freeze the surrounding air. In his mind's eye, guns spat and silvery blades flashed, and soldiers on both sides fell in hundreds, some wearing familiar faces, frozen in agony, crumpled and broken like a carelessly thrown doll discarded by a petulant child, empty eyes turned beseechingly to the heavens...  
  
...he wondered if they saw anything...  
  
...forgotten as relentless, booted feet of both friend and foe trod over them, trampling their mangled bodies into dust on the bloodstained ground...  
  
(no no no no NO NO NO NOOOO!!!!)  
  
But it would happen. Eventually.  
  
And it would all be his fault.  
  
His.  
  
A soft, anguished moan spilled out over his lips like a little waterfall of torment. He wouldn't be doing the actual killing. But he might as well stab them in the back with a dagger for all the good those words might mean. It was by HIS hands that events would lead to that grisly and unavoidable confusion.  
  
He was trapped, trapped by his loyalty, his guilt, trapped on both sides. He could not betray one without betraying the other. Avine Swifter's intense blue eyes seemed to regard him gravely, and he winced, remembering his role in her capture. Yet another life that he had ruined.  
  
( Oh, Avine, I'm so damned sorry, sacrificing you and the whole of Garden for my own selfish needs...)  
  
A small breeze ran velvety little fingers through his blond hair, teasingly pulling at the ends of the blond strands. He barely noticed, so preoccupied was he by his inner battle.  
  
When would they call again, he wondered bitterly. When would thet next whistle for their obedient pet to fetch? The transmitter implanted behind his ear remained mercifully silent, though.  
  
For the time being.  
  
He got up as the breeze grew to an insistent wind which tugged ineffectually at his shirttails. It was getting cold. He sheathed his gunblade in one smooth motion, took a last long look outside, at the light where he did not belong and never would.  
  
Trapped. Forever trapped. He wore no chains, he walked, ate slept where and when he pleased, no bars held him prisoner, no walls shut him in. But he was a prisoner nonetheless, just like poor Avine Swifter, just that the manacles that held him were of a much different kind. They were forged by himself.  
  
Ironically, he wouldn't have been suffering this conscious crisis and would never have betrayed Garden if the heroes of the Sorceress War had never made him see the light. Now, to defend his friends, he was forced to move against other friends.  
  
He wanted to scream at the circumstances that had brought him to this spot. He wanted to scream until his throat was raw and bleeding and his helpless frustration had been vented. But he dared not. Such an action might bring unwanted attention to himself, and questions might be asked that he wouldn't know how to answer.  
  
When he was on the side of the demons in the second Sorceress War before, he had learned how to let go. He had just let all those emotional bonds go and exhilarated in his freedom. But it had left a huge empty hole behind that he had tried to fill and sate with power. It hadn't worked. Friendship brought pain and plenty of stress, but it also brought a good and loyal friend who was willing to listen.  
  
He wished he could let go now, though. At least he would spare many people a lot of hardship.  
  
An old saying, unbidden, came to him. 'Nothing done out of love comes to a bad end.'  
  
He snorted to himself. Well, there was always a first time. He was a living example. He leaned back and stared morosely at his wrists, at the invisible cuffs, the cold iron of his guilt chaffing his soul with its oppressive heaviness.  
  
Trapped, indeed.  
  
Betrayal  
  
The worst crime of all  
To betray a person that trusts you  
Just like that;  
Shattered  
The trust broken so easily  
So hard to repair  
Eve if it ever mends  
When you look deep into their eyes  
You see  
Yourself;  
A person who is a betrayer.  
  
Author's Ending Note: Hee hee, the first chapter in my story that doesn't star Sephiroth! Hope that fans of everyone's favorite silver-haired villain aren't too disappointed. Don't worry, he's definitely up in the next chapter. This chapter was just to let you know how Avine was doing ( hmmm...doesn't all that angst sound a teensy bit familiar?) and the thoughts of the blond one ( whose identity shall not be revealed until I say so.) Bye, see you around later, and DO NOT forget to do you-know-what, okay? And the poem is original, owned by me, I swear!  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Omega Paladin—tee hee, thanks!  
  
Zero-no-uta—I definitely will!  
  
Dark Knight Gafgar—wow, nice of you to review every single chapter of my story!  
  
Delphine Pryde—I'm afraid that Sephiroth and Squall will have minimum contact throughout the whole story since it is the OCs who take part mostly. However, Seph WILL be working with Arne a lot later on (Squall's son, in case there are any forgetful people around here)  
  
Noacat—Well, here's a new chappy for you to enjoy!  
  
Meeeeee—I hope I have the correct no. of 'e's in your name... 


	8. 7: A Knight in Black Armor

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and VIII plus their characters, names and places are the property of Squaresoft.  
  
A Word From the Author: Sorry for the major delay, but I had a hard time getting this story out and then I lost the notebook where I had written my rough draft, so forgive me if this chapter sounds like crap and contains some weird stuff that can't be understood. As always, just post any complaints or comments in so I can improve this story for you guys! Now, I bring to you Chapter Seven!  
  
Chapter Seven: A Knight in Black Armor  
  
"...Still I wonder why I refused the light And doomed my soul to anguish for eternity."  
  
—Seifer Almasy  
  
"I have to go to Coruthary."  
  
Steadfastly, Seifer's green eyes stared his audience down, daring them to argue against his decision. He was dressed for travel, in a tan jacket, black shirt and dun trousers, and a backpack was slung over his shoulder. His belt was graced by the familiar sleek, deadly presence of Hyperion. He had been sneaking out of Edea's newly reopened orphanage through the back door, but had tripped over the ex-sorceress, who had been unable to sleep and sat down there to have a cup of tea. Her yell had been loud enough to waken half of the house's occupants, and her next shout of, 'Seifer Wolfgang Almasy, just where do you think you are going?!" had been more than enough to rouse the other half.  
  
"Coruthary?" Rinoa echoed skeptically, raising a delicate eyebrow. She leaned against the door, twirling a finger beside her head for the universally accepted gesture of 'boy, is that dude crazy.' "I don't know if you have knocked your head and forgotten this, Seifer, but Coruthary is a death trap at the moment. It is well known, if not officially, that the new Deling wants his land back, and he wants it bad. If the army isn't out there already, you can bet that they're beginning to march."  
  
"Very funny," the blond ex-knight growled, glaring at her, his eyes like emerald lasers.  
  
"You and what army?" the usually taciturn Squall volunteered, smiling slightly. He stood behind his wife, an arm around her shoulder.  
  
"There must be a conspiracy against me," Seifer muttered, shaking his head. He looked each of them in the eye and said evenly, "I knew you would react this way. Which is why I was awake at one a.m. in the morning, and not to admire the lovely flowers. I just wanted to get out of here without any fuss." His eyebrows drew down sharply over his eyes, making it clear that he wanted to be free of the 'interrogation' as fast as possible.  
  
"We're just worried about you, Seifer," the Matron offered as a form of apology.  
  
"Worried that I'm going to offer my services to Deling and join the Galbadians?" Seifer inquired sarcastically.  
  
"Nothing like that." Edea corrected. "It's that you have become a dear friend, and we would hate to see any harm come to you."  
  
Seifer wasn't too sure that the same could be said of his old nemesis. He glanced at Squall, crossed his arms, and said curtly, "I merely need some time for myself. To...think. I know you mean well, but this place suffocates me sometimes. With all the memories it holds..."he added a trifle wistfully.  
  
"It's not your fault Avine was kidnapped, Seifer," Squall said gently, guessing the somber turn Seifer's thoughts were taking. "Who would have known that, somehow, out of all the places in the world, they would come straight here?"  
  
"I let her get out of my sight," Seifer mumbled guiltily. "This wouldn't have happened if I had been watching her as closely as ordered."  
  
"For Hyne's sake, Seifer!" Rinoa threw her hands up in frustration and punched him lightly on the collarbone. "What's with that pea size brain of yours? You're starting to sound so...pious." Rinoa imitated Seifer's deep tones. "I must atone for my sins, because I have done wrong, and I suffer my whole life because of it." She spoke again in her normal voice. "In my opinion, this whole thing has the fishy smell of Deling all over it. And Edigier is the creepiest of the lot so far."  
  
"Only us, my son and a few trusted SeeDs know that Avine was here," Squall ventured quietly.  
  
"Are you saying that we could have been betrayed?" Edea asked, her face twisting at the thought.  
  
"I trust every one of us here, and I don't think any of us had anything to do with it," Squall said solemnly, refusing to give her a direct answer. "But I will check it out, in case. My son is already working on it back at Garden."  
  
He glanced at Seifer, and was startled to see Seifer exposed for once, his green eyes completely open for the first time in decades. He almost recoiled at the depth of pain buried there, and the half-healed scars that time had yet to mend. As fast as the expression appeared, it quickly vanished, hidden carefully once more behind an emotionless mask. In a way, the adult Seifer was very much like Squall's own younger self, who had hid his feelings from the world this way. Despite everything, Seifer had yet to learn to trust, and who could blame him, really?  
  
"I was here," Seifer said, so softly Squall could barely hear him. "They will ask questions. I had a reputation for kidnapping sorceresses, remember? Me...Avine...any SeeD will put two and two together and come up with a conclusion..." Rinoa flinched at the reminder of the tome Seifer had practically handed over her to Adel. Seifer's pain briefly resurfaced as he looked at her, also remembering.  
  
"Not all of us," Rinoa promised sincerely.  
  
Seifer closed his eyes, seemed about to say something, then stopped. He coughed and began again. "One last reason. You won't have known this...but Rajin and Fujin are still in Coruthary. I have failed so many comrades before. I can't bear to fail my two closest friends." H opened his eyes and looked around at them, his gaze earnest and straightforward, though Squall's sixth sense had the nagging feeling that, although Seifer might be telling the truth, he was certainly holding something back. He resisted the urge to ask what. Seifer might resent his intrusion, and worse, see it as mistrust on his part. Squall admired his former enemy somewhat grudgingly, and he didn't want to give up on him. So he held his peace, and let Seifer continue talking.  
  
"They came to help me in my hour of need. I can't abandon them in theirs. This is something I want to do alone. And no, Squall, I don't want a squad of SeeDs trailing me at all times. It's distracting walking around when you know that there're half a dozen guns pointing at your back whenever you go. Besides—" Seifer smiled, a confident smile from the days of the younger, brash teenager he had been— "I have Hyperion to take care of any pests that cares to cross my path." He patted his faithful gunblade affectionately on its hilt, and his smile grew unsettling. Squall understood the word 'pests' to refer to more than just random wild monsters roaming about.  
  
"Just how were you planning on making it to Coruthary, anyway?" Rinoa asked, forehead creased. "It's Galbadian land you have to get through before you reach Coruthary. And were you planning on swimming from Centra to Galbadia?" she finished archly.  
  
Seifer flushed. "No. I've got a boat waiting for me down there at the beach," he explained, nodding towards its general direction. "I'll be able to take care of myself once I reach Galbadia." He shrugged. "No need to panic, I'm still pretty good with Hyperion."  
  
They caught onto his gist, and Rinoa's face whitened. "Seifer," she said. "Promise me you won't—"  
  
It was the wrong thing to say. Seifer's expression grew stony. "Bye," he snapped. "I'll be going now." He stalked away, leaving them staring at his back. They didn't follow, sensing that it would only aggravate the already tense situation.  
  
Seifer got into the small motorboat bobbing in the waves. Small or not, it had a powerful engine, and spray cascaded into his eyes as the engine revved up with a roar and sent the craft speeding away from Cetra.  
  
He watched the lighthouse disappear into the horizon, then blinking seawater from his lashes, turned towards Galbadia and swept all thoughts of his home away from his head. He couldn't afford any distractions now.  
  
After all, he was on a mission.  
  
The boat sped off into the darkness.  
.......................................................................................  
  
Sometime in the night, in the dream world...  
  
"You knew, and you didn't tell me," Sephiroth accused bitterly.  
  
"If you had known, you would never have come," Aeris pointed out.  
  
"That was precisely my point."  
  
Angrily he leapt to his feet and paced, his jade eyes narrowed, his face taut against the chaotic jumble of emotions raging inside him. Aeris seemed to understand his sense of outrage and betrayal, and said nothing, simply sitting on the ground, her legs curled up beneath her, hands clasped together, her eyes dark with something like regret.  
  
"But it was your only chance for redemption," she said in a small whisper as his steps slowed and became less angry. "Why should you throw it away for Jenova?"  
  
He was on her at once, and the anger he had managed to purge out of his system rushed back, tightening his facial muscles, and his eyes glowed ominously. "How about for the world?" he snarled. "Has your precious Planet ever considered that Jen...she might attempt to possess me again? It could be Nibelheim all over again! A vicious cycle..." He laughed coldly. "Fine. I've accepted that I'm not a monster. I'm just an innocent, manipulated human. But now she's back!"  
  
"She still doesn't know you are here," Aeris offered, attempting to offer comfort. "The Planet is hiding your presence here to the best of its ability. You are safe as long as the Armlet of the Cetra protects you."  
  
"Hardly anything to cheer about," Sephiroth growled. "It's only a delay from the inevitable, since I was brought back to help the Gaians fight her. She will soon know, and will try to recruit me as she did before."  
  
He paused, then said emphatically, "The Planet knew very well that both of us would have to face each other again, and that my mind and soul would be in danger. Why was I its champion? Cloud Strife and his group of ragtag companions beat her once, including me. They would only be too glad to take up the task. Why me? Why...her?" He sounded almost plaintive. Turning to face her, the fire in his eyes dying down, he sighed, suddenly weary.  
  
"The Planet has its reasons," Aeris said, sorry to be putting Sephiroth so much in the dark. But it was for his own good. He was already overwhelmed at the moment at the revelation of his destiny; she didn't want to burden him any more than she had to. "But I can tell you it has to do with the fact that you are genetically her son..."  
  
"Don't say the word 'son' and Jen...her again in the same sentence again," he cut across her words vehemently. "It sickens me that I ever thought myself the product of that alien freak."  
  
"Sorry," Aeris apologized. "But you are her equal. No one else is better equipped to the task than you, who alone share her power. The sorceresses of today are no match for her; their powers have diminished over time. Jenova currently exists in a mortal body rather than a shell. Thus her powers are far more potent than what AVALANCHE has experienced before. But she is also more vulnerable. Before, Jenova created or possessed bodies, discarding them when she pleases, but not so now. She has not been here long enough to make a new host, and she is arrogant and confident of her new leadership of the world. She fears no threat to her position. If you kill her, she will die in this world, the world of her birth. In the Planet, the Lifestream would reject her, but I think Hyne would be more than glad to call her wandering spirit home. She has eluded his grasp for far too long, and the only thing she fears is his ire."  
  
Sephiroth stared at Aeris thoughtfully. "There is something you are not telling me, flower girl."  
  
The Cetra almost choked at his words. While her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, he shrugged, hunching his shoulders. "Never mind. I understand."  
  
He'd misunderstood! He thought that she still didn't want to confide in him because of Jenova. Aeris could have torn her hair out in frustration. Just what made men so damned thick?!  
  
Before she could explain, Sephiroth asked, "So how come Hyne is still up there happily unaware of her?"  
  
"He is far away, his attention on other worlds under his supervision," Aeris clarified. "This is Jenova's last chance. She came to your world to drink the Lifestream dry and gain power enough to challenge Hyne to a battle of ascendancy, but she failed in that venture. Now she has come at a time when Hyne is not watching Gaia. Her powers have grown tremendously even without the infusion of Mako she hoped would increase them. If she wrests control of this world from Hyne, the magic of Gaia is hers for the taking, She cares not that Gaia will wither and eventually die if too much magic is drawn from it and not allowed to replenish. It is a matter of revenge, really, for what Hyne did to her eternity ago. Her mind has become twisted along with her from. I believe, as do my brethren, that her original purpose, the total domination of Gaia, has become lost in her mad desire of vengeance."  
  
"So much destruction...just for revenge?" Sephiroth breathed, both in astonishment and fury that Jenova had let such a petty thing result in so many broken lives.  
  
"Insanity has claimed her," Aeris said sadly. "Death should have granted her peace long ago, but she escaped it, fearful of its black depths. It should end here, in this plane where it all begun."  
  
New resolution hardened Sephiroth's face. "I still think your Planet is foolish, but I am gladdened that it should so trust me by placing so much responsibility on my shoulders...as well as giving me a chance to shove six feet of Masamune up her ass," he finished, grinning wolfishly.  
  
Aeris smiled in spite of herself. "I'm not saying I'm happy you're looking so much forward to the hunt, but after what she's done to me..." Her smile became uncharacteristically evil. "I respectfully request that, as you're doing that, please give her a good hard kick, specially from me and all the Cetra."  
  
Sephiroth looked a little startled, then he smiled. "I shall do my best in that endeavor, as I owe you one for killing you. You shall have your wish."  
  
Aeris grinned, becoming the very image of a sweet young woman once more. "Thank you. It's so good to meet a man who keeps his promises. For once."  
  
"I hope that was not an insult to the male species," Sephiroth quipped.  
  
The Ancient Forest abruptly wavered about them, until Aeris shot it a steely gaze. "Uh oh," the Cetra said. "It's going to be morning soon. It's been fun talking, but I have to go. I look forward to our next meeting."  
  
"As do I," the silver-haired man replied with a genuine smile.  
  
"One more thing," Aeris declared, walking towards him until she stood right in front of him.  
  
"What?" His smile wavered, becoming confused.  
  
"A good-bye kiss, you dummy," she said, rolling her eyes. "That's what friends do when they part."  
  
She leaned forward and gave him a little chaste kiss on the cheek. "See you!" she said, smiling, hopping backwards and waving.  
  
The forest dissolved completely this time, sending Sephiroth back to dreamless sleep.  
  
..........................................................................................  
  
Author's Ending Note: Hee, what did you think I meant by 'goodbye kiss'? I'm not such an AeriSeph sucker that I would turn the whole thing into a romance so fast! If there is anything about Aeris' explanation you don't understand, please contact me. I have a major History exam coming up, and after that I plan on relaxing, so don't expect such a quick update. Plus, the quote at the beginning of the chapter is a quote from one of my other pieces, A Knight in Black Armor (yeah, I know that the title of this chapter is copying that), so please check it out!  
  
Wow, 9 reviews?! (tears) Thank you so much!  
  
Travithian Axile out  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Sephiroth2021: More demonstrations of Avine madness coming up soon, stay tuned! (not the next chapter, sadly, but SOON)  
  
Nav: I'm not really a Cloud fan, but never fear, I was already thinking of a way I could somehow throw certain members of AVALANCHE into the plot without seeming unrealistic. And I didn't want to make Sephiroth too strong. I mean, that would make the SeeDs suspicious, wouldn't it?  
  
Zero-no-uta: ...and another!  
  
Quela: You flatter me with your kind words. The encouragement is much appreciated.  
  
Dark Knight Gafgar: Welcome back! Yeah, it was pretty obvious, wasn't it? I have a feeling I know who you think he is.  
  
Noacat: (grins mysteriously) wait and see, then!  
  
Delphine Pryde: Sadly, it gets even worse for her from now on. If such a thing is even possible.  
  
Omega Paladin: Hmmm, you may have something there... (muses) 


	9. 8: A Silver Feather

Disclaimer: All Final Fantasy related characters and locations belong to Squaresoft except the OCs.  
  
A Word from the Author: Some things in the chapter may not make sense as I am introducing a new OC, but hopefully you're smart enough to get it.  
  
Chapter Eight: A Silver Feather  
  
Sephiroth wasn't the only one who dreamed that night. Another dreamed too, but what he saw was far darker.  
  
He was flying.  
  
Arne's silvery wings were flung wide to catch the wind as he soared among the clouds with the ease and grace of a bird. He wore sky blue robes, and the lion pendant that his father had given his mother, strangely, now encircled his neck, its surface glinting where the sunlight struck it.  
  
Beside him flew a woman of unsurpassed beauty. She looked to be only in her early twenties, but as Arne looked into her eyes, deep pools of molten gold, he saw an ageless wisdom that reached back to the very beginning of time. Her features were delicate and pale as porcelain, and her long violet hair streamed behind her like a banner. Her wings, too, were pure gold, shining with a heartbreaking beauty.  
  
Arne did not know her. Yet he felt a surge of love warm his heart as the two of them shared a secret, intimate smile. Both of them came to a halt in the sky, wings wrapping around each other, fluttering gently. Her slender hands twined around his neck, and he pulled her close in a lover's embrace. Her lips were warm against his, and they remained that way for seemingly eternity before they slid down to find his throat.  
  
At last they broke apart, and still holding each other in their arms. Arne suddenly felt uneasy for no reason at all. He slanted a gaze towards the horizon, but they were still alone in the sky. No aerial enemies approached to threaten them.  
  
What was it he felt, then? A sense of impending doom nearly overwhelmed him as he scanned his surroundings with worry.  
  
His companion squeezed his arm inquisitively. Frowning, he glanced at her and had to force himself not to recoil. She was just as beautiful as before, but for some reason he was unexplainably wary of her. He was repulsed by this woman; attracted and disgusted at the same time. He shoved her away, dizzy from her perfume, still clinging to him in fragrant waves.  
  
She didn't budge. Shocked by her abnormal strength, he stopped, his hands sliding limply down to rest around her forearms. He looked deep into the amber eyes, and saw, to his horror, scarlet bleeding into her eyes, turning them into a dark, bloody crimson. Her pupils narrowed, becoming slits, like a cat's.  
  
He thrashed wildly, seeking a way to escape her grasp, but she was far stronger. Dazedly, his mind idly observed that her wings had transformed, darkening into black and twisting into a bat's leathery wings. Her nails, no talons, dug with mind numbing pain into the sides of his neck, pressing precariously close to his jugular vein, strangling him. During this time, her body continued to morph an distort into that of any human's worst nightmare. Even as his oxygen starved brain begged for air, something compelled him to look into those awful, terrible ruby eyes—and see the wrenching hate.  
  
Something in his numbed brain understood with cold clarity that she wanted the hate to be one of the last things he saw before he died.  
  
"Why?" he whispered, or rather, mouthed, lacking the air to do anything more. She understood, however, and smiled with supreme satisfaction.  
  
"You know the answer to that," she spat at him.  
  
Laughing in his face, she snapped out a long tentacle, wrapped it swiftly around his wings, and with one quick, malicious tug, pulled them out of his back with brutal cruelty.  
  
The pain was unbelievable. His wings, clutched triumphantly like a bloody trophy in the monster's grasp, exploded in a spray of silver, bloodied feathers as the creature tightened its grip on the appendages. Feathers filled the air, falling on him and around him, some sticking to the blood that dribbled out of his broken back.  
  
Then, without any warning, she released him.  
  
Like a stone in water he plummeted, the ragged stubs of all that remained of his wings frantically flapping out of habit to keep him aloft. Blood continued spurting out of the ragged flaps of his throat. He felt so cold; with a pang, he realized he was dying. Her laughter continued screeching around him as he fell further. She was just a black spot in the sky now; yet he could still hear her words clearly as though she was right next to him whispering spitefully into his ear.  
  
"Serves you right, Quinn Leonheart."  
  
(Quinn?)  
  
"But...my name is Arne..." he whispered, but the rushing wind snatched the words away from his lips before the syllables could form.  
  
The ground was rushing up to meet him. Any moment now...  
  
Impact.  
  
............................................................................ ..................................  
  
"No!"  
  
Arne bolted awake with a start. Breathing heavily, he put a hand on his forehead, disoriented at first. He breathed an uncharacteristic sigh of relief as he realized that it had been just a horrible nightmare and he was still in his office.  
  
Blearily he squinted at the computer screen in front of his face, still brightly lit. The memories of yesterday came rushing back, and he remembered that he had stayed up late to do the snooping his father had requested of him. He must have fallen asleep. With a start he realized that it was still dark; the sky outside his window was still dusky and shrouded in darkness. He focused on his chrono. It was three in the morning.  
  
Wonderful. Arne switched off the computer and stretched vigorously, yawning sleepily. He'd better get some rest; he had a class to teach tomorrow and he would need his wits about him. He felt too tired to walk to the dormitories to sleep in his bed, so he sat back and let his eyelids flutter close.  
  
Unfortunately, an hour later, he was awoken by yet another dream of ruby eyes. Exhausted, he rubbed at his sore eyes. Finding no respite in slumberland, he decided to go back to his research.  
  
He powered up his laptop once again and bent his tousled head over his keyboard. Briefly he thought of his odd dreams, remembering their vividness, the very real pain of his torn wings, the mocking amusement of the woman. He shrugged, his practical side taking over and dismissing it. Probably just stress. A nightmare born out of his imagination and memories of the stories of sorcerers and sorceresses he had grown up with. Nothing more, and he was an idiot for trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.  
  
He turned back to his task with renewed concentration. A moment later, he had forgotten all about his dreams.  
  
He didn't notice the single silver feather that rested on the floor next to his desk.  
  
A warning had been given.  
  
............................................................................ .............................  
  
Author's Ending Note: Quinn will be starring more in other dreams and flashbacks, and in a later story I am planning, a prequel to TIAL called Jenova: The Fall From Grace. Quinn's name is a very BIG clue here. I am really very sorry this chapter is so short, but after writing it, I thought Arne's dreams would work better as a standalone chapter. Again, no Sephiroth, but he's in next chapter, in his very first swordsmanship class, so be sure to stay tuned!  
  
Travithian Axile out  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Dark Feruil: Yes, Sephiroth will be working a lot with some of the FFVIII characters. As for how he will defeat Jenova...it's my surprise.  
  
Daishi Mk I2I: Errr...I'll take that as a compliment.  
  
Noacat: It's definitely more than a guest appearance! I have much in store for the canon characters, especially Seifer and Quistis! (I am still debating with myself whether to make it a Seftis, as I don't know whether it is possible with a few plot twists I plan to add. So even if a lot of you vote for such a pairing, there is still a possibility I won't throw in a Seftis. ) Laguna has a small part to play too, so cheer up, Laguna fans! 


	10. 9: Black Wolf

Disclaimer: I do not own the below quote, or any Final Fantasy related property aside from Arne, Daniel, Mel, Keire, Quinn and Coruthary.  
  
A Word From the Author: For those observant enough to notice that the chapter title is the same as the last, I apologize for my error. Last chapter's title should have been A Silver Feather. The mistake has since been corrected. Also, if this chapter seems a bit...off...please excuse me as I have only rudimentary knowledge about fighting with swords and was forced to make up some of the stuff. Some of it was stolen from an FR book, Homeland (sorry for mangling your work, R. A. Salvatore—flashes a sheepish smile) Sorry for the massive delay on updating as I am suffering from a gigantic writer's block. (sigh) OC alert! Yet another new one coming in. Thank you. Please proceed with the story.  
  
Chapter Nine: Black Wolf  
  
"There are black wolves among every kind of creature who are different from their kin, outcasts either by choice or birth. For whatever reason, they have no place among their kindred. They walk alone. I say black wolf because oftentimes a rogue wolf has a dark coat. Is such a beast shunned by its kind because of its hide, or does it hunt alone because of differences hidden beneath?"  
  
—Elaine Cunningham, on black wolves  
  
(The above quote has been taken from the FR book Windwalker, which is the property of Wizards of the Coast and Elaine Cunningham.)  
  
While Arne pondered his strange dreams, Sephiroth had awoken and gone to the Headmistress' office once again in response to an announcement over the PA system. The tall silver-haired youth stood at attention in front of Xu's desk as the Headmistress calmly tapped her fingers on its surface, looking intently at her personal computer.  
  
"Impressive results," Xu said at last, swiveling away from her computer to gaze intently into the eyes of her new student. "I think, with such gushing praise from your instructors, it would be ideal if I found you a place immediately." She smiled warmly at Sephiroth. "I have placed an order for your uniform, which will arrive tomorrow, so just wear your ordinary clothes first." She opened a drawer, rummaged around in it, and produced a thick book that was as thick as two fifths of his palm's width. Sephiroth accepted it with a questioning look on his face.  
  
"SeeD handbook," Xu clarified. "It will come in useful, trust me. Contains everything you ever need to know about Garden. Your schedule is inside, by the way." She pounded on her keyboard again. "There. You are now officially enrolled in Garden, under Instructor Elenor Rynee, who is in charge of the advanced swordsmanship class. If the class seems small, that is because, as you know, that swordsmen like you are few and far between." She narrowed her eyes at Sephiroth. "Just remember that even if you are in doesn't mean you are always in. I take into account behavior and morals as well as skill. Expulsion is uncommon, but it has happened before. Though, of course, I hope that it won't come to that."  
  
She propped her head on her elbows and added, "Right now, Elenor is waiting for you in the training center. Since you are new, you will be excused for your lateness, of course, but I suggest you hurry. You may go."  
  
"Thank you, Headmistress," Sephiroth replied sincerely as he saluted and exited. Outside, the youth flipped open the handbook, found his schedule folded neatly in between the pages, and stuffed the book into his pocket for future reference. He was interested to note that after his weapons lesson, he would have a class on magic.  
  
He was fascinated by the magic of this world, so alien and profoundly different from the sorcery of his own world. Yet he had felt a strange connection to it when Mel had cast that ice spell yesterday. For a split second he had sensed the doorway to the magical weave open and he had felt oddly drawn to it. It was familiar and puzzling at the same time. He could only surmise that it was because Jenova had wielded the magic of both worlds, and he carried her cells within him. Even if those cells had been injected, not passed on, he was in some way part of Gaia, just as Jenova was a part of Gaia. He wondered idly for a moment if that made him a sorcerer or something, since Jenova had been a sorceress. In that case, would he need a Guardian Force to help him cast magic?  
  
He broke off from his musings with a start to realize that his feet had subconsciously carried him to the training center. He filed his thoughts in the back of his mind to take out and ponder over later, choosing o focus on his surroundings instead. It wouldn't do to be killed by a Grat or something (the shame!) just because he hadn't been paying sufficient attention to where he was going.  
  
Unsure of their whereabouts, he stopped a passing student and asked him about Instructor Rynee's class. The cadet pointed vaguely in the direction Sephiroth was already going before running off. Sephiroth found them easily after that, identifying the instructor from the twin katanas she wore sheathed across her hips. She was unusually tall and lean for a woman, with a wild mane of dark brown hair and light brown eyes that looked almost yellow in the dim light. A small band consisting of seven students surrounded her, all carrying blades of some form and regarding him with curiosity. One of them, in particular, caught his attention. She was a young woman with a confident stance, leaning her massive broadsword like a spade across her shoulder, a familiar, cocky pose that reminded him of Cloud Strife and his victory pose. Another thing about her were the two small pistols that were hanging from her belt, Obviously she had chosen to take up both long range and short range weapons to increase her fighting efficiency. Sephiroth, though an excellent shot (he had been trained in all kinds of weapons before entering SOLDIER) had always scorned to take up the gun, considering it a coward's weapon.  
  
Instructor Rynee cleared her throat, recapturing his wandering attention. "Are you Sephiroth? My new student?" she asked in a deep, fluting voice just on the edge of the bass tone that could reverberate rocks and tabletops. It seemed a little too deep and manlike to be coming from a woman's throat, yet it somehow managed to fit the instructor.  
  
"Yes," the silver-haired youth replied, nodding. Instructor Rynee regarded him unblinkingly for a few seconds before turning to her cadets and saying, "Class, this is Sephiroth. This is..." She proceeded to introduce the students to him, and he automatically memorized their names in case it could be useful later. The female with the double weapons smiled at him in greeting, twirling her enormous sword in her hand with ease in an almost arrogant gesture when Rynee named her as 'Paine Falkern, my best student.'  
  
(We'll see how long she holds that position) Sephiroth thought, narrowing his eyes back. He resolved not to underestimate her, however. He had underestimated Cloud, and he had ended up killed because of his mistake. Memories floated unbidden to the surface of the pool of his thoughts, triggered by the presence of the girl whose every movement was a ghost of Cloud's own.  
  
"Let me see your weapon," the instructor said, holding out her hand. Sephiroth shrugged and unsheathed the long sword in a fluid gesture, putting the hilt in Rynee's callused palm. Rynee's lips curled into a frown as she hefted the blade—a little awkwardly, but with phenomenal strength nonetheless. Sephiroth tried not to stare. Hojo had once explained to him that the Masamune had been found next to Jenova's body, and in some way the sword had been made so that only those of her blood could actually wield the blade. In some way the Masamune could sense the blood and allow the rightful wielders to take it up. Others would have difficulty in just lifting it, complaining that it was too heavy and unwieldy.  
  
The instructor swiped the Masamune through the air several times, performing a few basic blocks and slashes, her frown unwavering. At last she stopped and rested the weapon point down on the earth, her fingers tracing thoughtfully around the hilt.  
  
"Is this not too heavy for you?" she queried suddenly, her strange yellow eyes darkening slightly. "It requires a lot of strength just to perform a simple maneuver. For someone like you, I thought you would have preferred a lighter sword for continuous movement."  
  
"This is my chosen weapon. I'd prefer to stick with my choice," Sephiroth said indignantly and a little stiffly, taking back the offered weapon. He felt better as soon as his hand wrapped around the Masamune. He knew every little scratch, bump or flaw on his beloved sword, the one friend who had ever bothered to stick with him throughout all his years in the training academy back at Midgar.  
  
Rynee shrugged in a suit-yourself gesture, but he felt her eyes lingering on his back even after he had turned away. He could practically hear her wondering, the wheels turning in her brain. After a while, she turned to face her class, drawing her two slim katanas from her sides gracefully.  
  
"Today we shall learn the cross-down parry," she announced in her husky voice. "Class, please observe. Paine, if you would please," she added, motioning. The dark-haired girl swaggered to the front of the class, holding her broadsword steadily in both hands. Rynee whispered in her ear for a few seconds, then both walked apart until a distance of about three feet separated them. Then Paine dove forward, blade aiming straight towards Rynee's vulnerable legs. Rynee's katanas were out in a flash, blades locked together in a distinctive 'X'. Paine's sword scraped against the katanas with a metallic clang and Rynee worked the broadsword up high. Paine, her midsection unprotected, was forced to retreat.  
  
Rynee addressed the class again. "Traditionally, this parry is only for those who use two blades, but those with only one could also—yes, Sephiroth, what is it?"  
  
The silver-haired youth put down his hand, which he had raised to get the teacher's attention. His expression grave, he said politely, "Pardon me, Instructor, but the parry is wrong. It is not appropriate for that kind of move."  
  
Rynee's head snapped back to look at him amid whispers and mutters from the other students at what they regarded as an insolent move from an arrogant upstart like him. Contrary to what he had expected, however, the instructor did not appear offended. Her yellow eyes were filled with interest. "Explain," she ordered peremptorily , motioning at him to continue talking.  
  
A little surprised, he nevertheless obeyed. "You see," he stated, using the Masamune to demonstrate and prove his point, "If the enemy also happens to have a gun, another weapon, whatever, he could just pull it out and inflict damage whilst your own weapons are still high up and unable to guard. Or just use his knee to shove it up your..." he broke off hastily as he remembered just in time that he was talking to an instructor. "Well, sorry about that. Anyway, as I was saying, with one bang, well, game over, only you can't press the reset button and start all over again. Am I right?"  
  
"Yes," Rynee said agreeably, much to the apparent surprise of the cadets, because the whispering started all over again. Some of Paine's initial coolness faded from her eyes, and she looked at him in an appraising kind of way, newfound respect in their gray depths. Rynee continued, "To be honest, you haven't been the first to voice such an opinion, but you're definitely the first junior. True, the parry is wrong, but until someone is smart enough to figure out a new parry, it's the best one we got." She did another shrug. "That was pretty observant of you, by the way. The Headmistress said you were already trained in sword craft, so I guess that accounts for it." She looked at him keenly. "Not anyone can just swing that sword of yours around. Whoever trained you must be immensely skilled himself. Who was it?"  
  
Sephiroth grimaced a bit as he recalled the long excruciating hours of training he had undergone in SOLDIER. How President Shinra had hired the best swordsmen he could find to train his 'perfect soldier.' Of course, he had no idea that he would be signing his own death warrant when he had sponsored Professor Hojo's project then. Sephiroth had been a quick learner, and memorized everything his instructors had thrown at him, then examining their methods, the secrets of their successes, and modifying them for his own uses. Within a few months, the new, green recruit was beating hardened war veterans with their own improved moves. Shinra had been overjoyed at the results of Hojo's experiments and without further ado appointed him a captain in SOLDIER.  
  
He couldn't very well tell Rynee, or anyone else, that as it would reveal the truth of his heritage. For the first time Sephiroth realized that he would have to hide his skills, his prodigious strength, his ability to use materia. What would the SeeDs think when they saw a teenager, presumably still very green behind the ears, do things that even adults and the most powerful among them could not? He had experimented when he was alone last night, and found that he could still use some of his inherent abilities, such as (he shuddered as images of Nibelheim surfaced painfully in his mind) summoning fire at will, and frankly, all kinds of magic, without even needing to summon his power from the materia. He didn't need them for his spells. However, before, it had cost him much energy and concentration to do so, and he needed to be really angry or upset before he started throwing fire around without using materia. Here, in Gaia, it was much easier. Sephiroth could only speculate about the reasons for this oddity. Jenova could cast spells without the aid of materia as well. Perhaps it was a sorceress-based ability to be just able to use magic without the help of any external sources of power and he had inherited the ability through Jenova's cells.  
  
Shaking himself out of his train of thoughts, reminding himself that Rynee was still looking at him expectantly and waiting an answer, he looked at Rynee and, trying to sound as though he was telling the truth, blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, "My...uh...uncle. He likes his privacy, so he just does his sword work in secret when no one is looking. He taught me all this before he died last year."  
  
"Really," Rynee said, peering suspiciously at him. He assumed an innocent expression, and she glanced away after a moment, apparently convinced. "Good for you to have such nice family," she said dryly. Facing the class, she told them to break up in pairs and practice the parry, "regardless of whether it's wrong or not" she finished archly, and to show it to her nest lesson.  
  
Sephiroth found himself paired off with Paine Falkern. When Rynee wasn't looking, Paine stopped doing the parry, and grinned up at him with such mischief dancing in her dark eyes that Sephiroth couldn't help but feel uneasy. Paine brought her broadsword up into a defensive position and suggested with a bright smile, "Spar? Since you're such a vaunted swordsman and all."  
  
Sephiroth liked her at once, sensing a common love of the sword in his opponent. He smiled in return and did a small, courtly bow. "I'll try not to hurt you or leave a scar."  
  
"You wish," she smirked.  
  
Sephiroth brought up his own sword. The two watched each other warily, circling around the other, on the alert for openings or wavering of concentration. The other students, noticing, crowded around them, but left a bare ring in the center, standing back a respectful distance from the dueling duo, giving them adequate space to fight.  
  
Rynee also noticed, but she did not try to interfere. A small, knowing smile curved her lips, as though she had been expecting such an event to happen. She stood at the side, her tawny yellow eyes fixed intently on the two swordsmen, the best in her class.  
  
Sephiroth and Paine struck at once. The broadsword and the Masamune screeched harshly against each other. It was an almost ludicrous sight to see the thick blade of Paine's sword pressing hard against the other, thinner, seemingly fragile blade of the Masamune. But the long sword held firm, and the two disengaged with another loud ring of steel. There was no circling or waiting game this time. Each had marked the other, and now the blows were fast and furious. The empty air between the two was filled with the silvery, barely seen afterimages of the blades.  
  
Sephiroth concentrated on not revealing too much of his true strength. He knew Rynee already suspected, and he wanted to appear as nothing more than an ordinary cadet. But Paine was a vicious fighter, and fought dirty at times. She was an aggressor who would do anything to win. If he did not show his full potential, he knew he just might lose to her. And his masculine pride protested volubly against such an embarrassment. His sword moved faster, almost to the point of impossibility. He checked any further speed; he knew his current speed was already close to breaking all the laws of physics. He concentrated instead on tiring Paine out, forcing her to defend against all his lightning quick slashes.  
  
His sword fell one last time, and Paine, exhausted, could not hold the broadsword steady this time. With a gentle little push, the huge blade fell to the ground, followed by its owner two seconds later. Paine groaned as she stared blearily up at Sephiroth, who loomed above her, arms crossed over his chest in a gesture of insufferable smugness.  
  
"Okay, I admit it, I lost," she snarled sullenly. She smiled suddenly. "Let's do this again, shall we? This is the first time I've ever been beaten, you know. It was kind of boring winning every time. It's enriching to lose." She groaned again. "Before I get a crick in my neck, will someone give me a hand?"  
  
Sephiroth smiled and offered a hand. Paine took it, and heaved herself up. The moment she was upright, she aimed a brutal kick at the part of Sephiroth's anatomy that would have left most men groaning in deeply masculine agony with the toe of her steel-shod boot.  
  
The kick never connected. Sephiroth stepped to one side in an almost casual movement and released her hand at the same time. Off balance as her foot sailed through empty air, she stepped backwards, arms windmilling, and fell down again.  
  
"Ouch," she muttered from her undignified position as their audience clapped and cheered. "Alright, no kidding this time. You win. Now get me up."  
  
Sephiroth decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Paine, true to her word, didn't try anything funny this time. She leaned against Sephiroth, wincing at the pain her bruised body was giving her.  
  
"Do you need the infirmary, Paine?" Rynee's deep, calm voice asked.  
  
"Nah, I would die from just a bunch of bruises," Paine muttered, hissing through her teeth in annoyance as she accidentally scraped her elbow against Sephiroth's ribs. "But I would appreciate it if I could use Sephiroth as a walking stick back to my dormitory. Could you explain to Instructor Orionyt why I couldn't make it for my next lesson?"  
  
"Sure," Rynee agreed as the bell rang. "See you next lesson, class. And you better have practiced; I can tell." The students left for their next lesson in high spirits, chatting, leaving Sephiroth and Paine behind as they awkwardly hobbled together from the training center. Sephiroth had no doubt that the story of Paine's first defeat would be all over the school before the hour was over.  
  
"Could you not poke your arm into my side," he growled at Paine through gritted teeth. "You could be grateful, you know. I'm late for my next class."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Who did this to me in the first place?" she retorted smartly, twisting her head around to glare at him in an unfriendly manner.  
  
"You did this to yourself," he responded, giving her a black look.  
  
So went on the 'friendly' remarks until they managed to reach the entrance to the girls' dormitories. Since guys weren't allowed to enter, Paine disentangled herself from him to go on alone. "I mean it about our second duel, though," she insisted. "Once I'm healthy again, I'm coming after you."  
  
"I'm petrified," he drawled.  
  
She sniffed, and thrusting her nose haughtily in the air, limped off into her room. Highly amused, Sephiroth chuckled and departed for his magic lesson. His thoughts stayed on Paine. He had no doubt that, if given a good dose of Mako (not that he would wish that poison on anyone) she could be one of the best swordsmen (oops, swordswomen) of her world. With a jolt, he smiled to himself as he realized that he was truly looking forward to their second spar.  
  
"Until next time, Paine," he muttered to himself. ...............................................................................................................  
  
Author's Ending Note: Hope you liked it! I'll do Sephiroth's first magic class on request from the readers if you want it. If you feel that I should speed up the action a little, please contact me via e-mail or the review system.  
  
Travithian Axile signing out  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Noacat: I've actually succeeded in writing something horribly creepy for once? Thanks! I didn't get such a good response for another dream sequence I did once, so, again, thanks for cheering me up!  
  
Omega Paladin: I hope I didn't disappoint you with what I've written. Sorry for making you wait so long to read it!  
  
Zero-no-uta: (sobs) You make me feel so touched with your wonderful response to my work! (pulls out handkerchief and cries into it)  
  
Dark Feruil: Well, you're supposed to read the story to find out, so keep on reading and reviewing, please! Hmmm, maybe I should do more of those creepy dreams just to torture poor Arne, hee, I'm so evil to him.  
  
Daishi Mk I2I: Nice to know I'm not the only one who does ( ingest too much caffeine and go crazy for random bouts of time, that is.) 


	11. 10: Into the Mists of Magic

Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Final Fantasy Seven or Eight, I am just making use of Square's characters and worlds.  
  
A Word from the Author: For the benefit of my readers, I shall attempt to produce a summary of the story so far every ten chapters. Sephiroth was killed by Cloud, but the Planet resurrected him and transported him on Gaia, the FF8 world, to help the heroes chosen by destiny to fight the new threat, namely Jenova, who had landed on Gaia after her defeat. She had teamed up with the President of Galbadia, whose quest was total global control. These events take place twenty years after the Second Sorceress War. Sephiroth joined SeeD and so far he has made it into the ranks of the cadets after being tested by the instructors. Squall and Rinoa are staying in the newly rebuilt orphanage, Quistis is in Esthar Garden, Irvine and Selphie in Trabia. Zell is in instructor in Balamb. The Leonhearts and Kinneases are married with children. Sephiroth has just left his sword class victorious after a duel with Paine and is now in magic class.  
  
OCs so far: Arne Leonheart, Angus Feder (bad guy), Avine Swifter, Daniel Roheiz, Edigier Deling (bad guy), Elenor Rynee, Ian Kinneas, Keire Wulcan, Kenji Miaren (bad guy), Krien Istarl (bad guy), Lisa Kinneas, Mel Flintein, Paine Falkern, Quinn Leonheart, Tierna Telemont (bad guy...uh...girl), and lastly, Tycho Assanio (bad guy)  
  
Note: These are all the OCs that will appear in this fic, aside from some minor, less important characters I won't bother to mention above.  
  
Canon characters: Cid Kramer (minor), Edea Kramer (minor), Irvine Kinneas (minor), Laguna Loire (minor), Quistis Trepe (major), Rinoa Heartilly (minor), Squall Leonheart (minor), Seifer Almasy (major), Selphie Tilmitt (minor), Xu Fraden (major), and Zell Dincht (major)  
  
Note: Roles in story are bracketed.  
  
As a special favor to Dark Feruil and Quela, who have requested for this chapter, I'm going to write about Seph's next class: studying and using magic. Apologies for the delay in getting to the story. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter Ten: Into the Mists of Magic  
  
The metal doors slid open and a blur of silver flashed through, boots thudding on the floor, cutting off the voice of the instructor as she wrote on the whiteboard with a marker. Heads turned as the students turned to stare at the interrupter with raised eyebrows and curiosity, glad to find something besides the lesson to interest themselves in.  
  
Sephiroth straightened his clothes and smoothed back his messy hair, then suddenly realized that he was the center of attention of the whole class. Big deal. Used to it, he ignored them and turned to the instructor. For some reason, she looked extremely familiar, with fair blond hair and warm hazel eyes. Oh, right. An image of his roommate flashed into his mind as he recognized her features.  
  
The young woman put her book down and placed her hands on her hips. "What excuse can you give for your lateness?" she asked bluntly.  
  
"One of my classmates was injured during training, so I had to escort her to her dormitory," he stated.  
  
While he spoke, she pulled put a sheaf of papers from her book and flipped through them until she came to the page she wanted. "You must be the new student. Se...Sephi...rorf?" she asked, pronouncing his name with some difficulty and totally mangling it in the process.  
  
When he nodded his head in admission and corrected her mistake, the instructor just grunted in disinterest. "Your lack of punctuality is excused this time. Just don't do that again in the future. I am Instructor Erin Roheiz. Take a seat. A desk computer shall be assigned to you later."  
  
Daniel's 'stubborn' sister? Sephiroth wondered as he did as the instructor had ordered. Aside from her obvious resemblance to the martial artist, there was absolutely no similarity between them. Erin was cold, efficient and curt. Her brother was talkative, active and outgoing. Sephiroth could not help but be amused by the major differences between the two siblings.  
  
Sephiroth slid into the only vacant seat beside a scrawny, geeky-looking youth with a serious case of acne. Instructor Roheiz waited a second or two for the restless class to settle down again before beginning to speak. "As I was saying before the intrusion, I believe that some of you have progressed far enough in your studies that you can handle drawing and casting low level spells now. Such as the basic elements, Fire, Ice, Thunder, Quake, etcetera. Once you have mastered the simple spells, we shall move on to higher levels. Those who have managed junctioning of Guardian Forces please come to the front of the class. As you are aware, magic cannot be cast without their assistance. Those who have not, practice with Shiva. Who has her now?"  
  
The girl beside Sephiroth raised her hand. Erin nodded at her. "Patricia, right? Good. You are in charge of your study group. As for you, Sephiroth, do you have any experience with the usage of magic? Anything?"  
  
He mulled over his reply before saying, "...a little." He smiled inwardly to himself at the lie. Definitely more than 'a little'. Meteor, terrible and monstrous, hanging in the sky like a harbinger of doom, like a Damocles' Sword, over everyone's heads...Realizing that he was lapsing into old memories again, something he was doing frequently nowadays, he snapped himself out of it and looked inquiringly at Erin.  
  
"Then you must have prior knowledge of junctioning and drawing." The instructor cocked her head to one side, looking stern. "Junction a Guardian to yourself. Show me. Then draw and cast any kind of magic from me."  
  
If this was an anime flick, there would have been question marks dancing around Sephiroth's head now as he struggled to understand the strange ways of this new world. Fortunately the Planet assisted, its voice like cool, soothing water, calming his questions.  
  
—Open your mind...reach out, like how you did when you use materia...when you swim in the Lifestream—  
  
Sephiroth let himself relax and his mind, so naturally, left his body and, freed of mortal constraints, searched for the source of this world's magic. He located a higher plane, so near yet so far, from this material dimension where his body sat. He was barely conscious of time stretching, passing, but here it was of no consequence. His spiritual eyes saw a whirling myriad of colors so dizzying and mystifying that he saw no colors at all at the same time. He felt heat and he felt ice, buffeting winds and a silent, deafening stillness.  
  
Somehow, he knew that this was the world of the Guardians, where they lived, watching over the mortals they had chosen to protect and defend, lending them their power, even manifesting on the humans' own plane to fight for them at their summons. He cast about, seeing large, humanoid, serpentine shapes approaching him, silent, stealthy, oddly graceful and fluid. Yet he felt no fear.  
  
A mind touched his; roaring, fiery with all the rash warmth of a fiercely passionate, impatient nature. /Who are you that intrudes into our realm?/  
  
/Hush, Ifrit./ This was a cool, female voice, filled with enigma and logic, icy and composed in comparison with the voice of the being that had preceded her. Sephiroth, or rather, his soul, felt the female's attention turned on him. /But how were you able to enter our world unscathed?/ she mused, in a tone filled with wonder. /No one has been able to do that, not since...since/  
  
Her voice trailed away. A new voice broke in, this one deep, smooth, filled with unutterable darkness.  
  
/Afraid what this means, Shiva, my dear?/  
  
Sephiroth could sense the building tension. For the first time, Shiva showed her form, a perfect, beautiful goddess with blue skin and a frigid aura. She hovered to his right, and even though his physical body was far away he could feel the cold air surrounding her. /Hyne is away, Diablos. It is our duty to protect his creation. Naturally I fear./  
  
/The sorceress is accounted for. Who is this? No ordinary being can do what he has dared done./ Ifrit repeated again, his voice a low growl.  
  
Sephiroth was fascinated as he faced the Guardians for the first time. Shiva and Ifrit he recognized from his own world. Either they were the same or the Planet and Gaia were some kind of alternative/parallel universes, which explained why some of the Guardians were similar to the Summon Monsters from the Planet. Diablos he did not know; he had no doubt that he would meet many old 'friends' and strangers as well once he got to know all the Guardians.  
  
/Bahamut must know of this./ a masculine, harsh voice declared. Sephiroth glanced behind him to see a knight in blackened armor astride a horse with burning eyes from the depths of nightmares. A face with rough features looking as though they had been carved out of rock with a blunt chisel and an odd yellowish tint peered out from beneath the helm with dark, intelligent, intense eyes.  
  
(Odin, the Defender...)  
  
/What are you doing here?/ Diablos demanded sharply. /Remember Hyne's charge, Sir Knight?/ he sneered with thick sarcasm, making no effort to hide his contempt for the knight. /Hyne would not be pleased of you had abandoned your duty.../  
  
/We do not need your cutting remarks, Diablos, at this time of instability and unease/ Odin replied just as coldly. /An anomaly in the natural flow of things has called me here. I shall be gone soon./ His black eyes searched Sephiroth out, smoldering with an unseen fire. /It is he. Can you not sense it?/  
  
/Yes/ Shiva breathed. /The power.../  
  
/Why do you not say anything?/ Ifrit demanded, his bestial form solidifying and appearing next to Shiva. Coal red eyes glared with dark suspicion at the unexpected intruder in their midst.  
  
/I shall call the rest/ Odin said quietly before slipping away, his ominous silhouette fading from view.  
  
(What do you wish to know?) Sephiroth asked of the Guardians silently.  
  
/Who are you?/ Shiva asked.  
  
(I am Sephiroth.)  
  
/You do not come from this world/ she accused, blue eyes flaring white with power. A blast of wintry air lashed at him suddenly, and instinctively he flinched at the biting cold.  
  
(Yes...) he acknowledged.  
  
/And yet you do. You belong here, yet something about you is.../ Shiva paused to tilt her head to one side in puzzlement, her long fall of sapphire hair brushing against one shapely thigh. /alien. Not of Gaia./  
  
The Planet was silent, giving him no clue as to what to respond. Sephiroth decided to take the plunge. (Do you know of Adele—)  
  
Shiva's eyes flashed with anger. /DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME!/ She cried out in rage, whipping out with a blast of raw energy. Ifrit was similarly affected, and his eyes flamed red and orange, his fur bristling, steam leaking out of his nostrils and mouth. Diablos snorted bitterly, bat wings folding close around his demonic body, his crimson eyes filling with pure obsidian.  
  
/Do not utter the Fallen One's name again. Ever. Not in our realm/ Shiva stated, her tone terrible to hear in its absolute emptiness and hatred. /Not if you value her life./ She was serious, and she meant it.  
  
(I apologize for my mistake) Sephiroth said sincerely. Having understood from his research that Adele had brought about the downfall of Hyne's first children, it was not surprising the Guardians would resent her so deeply. Hyne had trusted her, and she had broken that trust in a single, irreparable act of betrayal. (But you see, the Fallen One did not die.)  
  
/Hyne was afraid of that/ a new, sad, resonant voice whispered. /But we dared to hope. We hoped that we were free./  
  
A dragon materialized out of the crazily swirling mists that formed the Guardians' home. Its scales were a shiny, metallic blue, its eyes liquid gold, filled with the sorrow and wisdom of a very old man. Wings the span of the Planet were tucked in close at its sides.  
  
Following it were more Guardians, some manlike, some fantastic beyond all comprehension, some monstrous and awe inspiring. Odin was among them. He caught Bahamut's eye, and something like silent understanding passed between knight and dragon. Odin vanished again, and this time Sephiroth understood that he was not coming back.  
  
Bahamut's amber eyes swept over the lone man standing silently within the ring of Guardians, and widened, almost in shock. /Could it be?/ he murmured softly, and the Guardians stirred in response to their king's unease. /A shadow of a past best forgotten/ he continued regretfully. /You were discussing the Fallen One?/  
  
Sephiroth turned to the Planet for guidance. An overwhelming grief, the Planet's current, strongest emotion, swept through him. There was a brief image of blood and darkness, then it was gone, and in its place, simply —Tell them—  
  
And so he did. The Guardians listened, rapt, as he told them of Nibelheim, of Meteor, of the Fallen One who now called herself Jenova, and her return. Bahamut sighed wearily as Sephiroth reached the end of his tale.  
  
/We feared as much/ he mumbled miserably. /You have been of great help, child, and we shall not forget what you have done for us. Call in battle if danger threatens, and we will come./ The dragon stretched out his long, scaled neck, golden eyes grave. /We had sensed a disturbance in the flow of magic two weeks ago, and we hoped so fervently that we were wrong. We are sad to know that we are not, but/ His eyes gleamed fiercely. /She is here. At her most vulnerable, where we can get her! At last, after the years of uncertainty, of endless waiting. She shall not escape us this time./  
  
He shook himself out of his battle lust and gazed at Sephiroth evenly.  
  
/The Fallen One was a sorceress. The blood of Hyne runs in your veins. You may not know your ultimate destiny yet, Son of Hyne, but you will know soon. The winds of change blow, blowing away the footsteps in the sand.../ Bahamut dipped his massive head in a bow of respect. /We will meet again in the future. For now, farewell./  
  
One by one, the Guardians departed, until only the god of gravity was left, floating in the air before Sephiroth. Emerald met ruby eyes in an unspoken challenge. Diablos smiled, thin lips parting to reveal a mouthful of thin, pointed teeth that added to his demonic countenance.  
  
/Your darkness calls to my darkness. We are both representatives of night serving the light. I would be your junction. But remember the cost. The exchange of memories for power/  
  
Sephiroth nodded in consent after a moment of consideration. (So be it. I never had such good memories to begin with.)  
  
Diablos dissolved in a spray of dark mist that extended black tendrils into Sephiroth's 'head'. The world went black as Diablos' consciousness slipped firmly into his, taking up residence in a spot at the back of his head.  
  
/comfortable/  
  
(Nice to know that, Diablos)  
  
A dark snicker sounded within his head. Sephiroth ignored it and focused on his discarded body, sitting slumped in the chair back in the classroom at Balamb. His spirit was pulled out of the other dimension, speeding through the barriers between worlds and landing eagerly in his mortal shell, slipping on the body like a well tailored glove.  
  
To Sephiroth, eternity had passed since he had left his body and found the Guardians, but a glance at his chrono and Instructor Roheiz's oblivious expression told him that in this world, only about five seconds had passed. Smirking, he called upon Diablos' dark power. He didn't need it, of course; Jenova's power still lurked, waiting to be unleashed, burning keenly beneath his skin. But these were SeeDs, trained to defeat insane sorceresses, and they might recognize a sorcerer's power...  
  
His Jenova enhanced senses explored Erin's mind, and found fire, harmless until she chose to speak the incantation, burning his probe with power just raging to be released. It was there, within his reach...Sephiroth smiled and drew the power within himself, and glowing green light—the form the fire magic took as it traveled between minds—connected instructor and student for a few seconds. Sephiroth felt an instant of pain during the transaction—almost as if the fire the spell had the potential to set free was scorching his brain. Then the pain was gone, and the fire was burning merrily within him now.  
  
"Immolatus infernato incantem," he began, reeling the rest of the spell with ease, the words just popping up in his head and rolling off his tongue smoothly as he concentrated on the spell. With a sound like s match being struck, a spherical mass of orange and blue flame bursting into existence right above his palm, hovering close enough to warm the skin but not burn it. Erin raised an eyebrow, but despite her affected imperturbability he could tell that she was impressed with his performance.  
  
"Which GF is that?" she asked casually.  
  
"Diablos."  
  
His answer disturbed her. One line marred the smooth skin of her forehead, her full lips turning down at some worrying thought. Without deigning to reply she just walked away, indicating that he should follow her.  
  
/Darkness to darkness/ Diablos reminded him snidely as he rose from his seat. He closed his hand over the small ball of fire, merely feeling a slight discomfort as the fire licked at his skin for a short moment, without leaving any trace, extinguishing the fire. /The Guardian chooses the host/  
  
(Ah, I see.)  
  
/It was that obvious/  
  
Diablos' insults did not faze Sephiroth. He had heard worse. He thrust aside the winged demon's words and listened carefully to Erin's instructions to the students. Ten minutes later he was drawing Firas and Firagas from Erin with deceptive effortlessness. He heard the words 'show- off' muttered under the breaths of others more than once, but again, he was used to it from his youth. When the class bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson and the beginning of lunch period, Erin condescended to utter a short, "Good work" to the silver haired youth. Judging from the looks he had got from the other cadets, some jealous, some admiring, some calculative, it was not common of Erin to hand out praise to her students. Especially a new one.  
  
Sephiroth headed for the cafeteria feeling distinctly pleased with his morning. Only one thing confused him, a fact he kept carefully hidden from the sarcastic demon in the corner of his brain.  
  
What had Bahamut meant by 'his ultimate destiny'...? Wasn't the purpose of his presence here to help the Children of Fate fight Jenova?  
  
For this, he had no answer.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
Author's Ending Note: Okay, after I read this, I thought it sounded lame. Sephiroth goes to magic class, and ends up talking to the King of the Guardians when he tries to junction a GF for the first time?! Sure...right. However, I had absolutely no other ideas, and somehow the story just turned out like this. (Shrugs) I understand that some parts sound...weird?...and in case you want to ask something, well, just go ahead. I'll answer any questions you may have readily.  
  
Travithian Axile signing out  
  
(Great! 9 reviews again!!!...eyes goes dreamy)  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Omega Paladin: Paine is, personally, my favorite OC. However, in case people have the wrong ideas about Paine's and Sephiroth's relationship, I'll say it again—There will be NO Seph/OC if I can help it. Not in a million, zillion years. I'm glad to know I was able to meet your expectations. Keep reviewing! I love hearing opinions from my readers.  
  
Noacat: (bows) I'm happy that people think my fight scene was great even though I had a pretty low opinion of my writing. Nice to be proved wrong for once. Well, Patricia the OC is a pretty meaningless one though, just put there for fun. Cheerio!  
  
aer-seph4eva: Sure! You know, you could just put me on Author Alert and FF.net will just notify you the next time my work is updated. As always, I appreciate the praise.  
  
Daishi Mk2: Actually, that was a mistake. I meant to spell her name as 'Payne' but somehow I accidentally wrote 'Paine' instead. So, no, she's not the same as the FFX-2 character, though I intend for her (the TIAL Paine) to inherit some 'attitude' from her namesake.  
  
Dark Feruil: (muses) I wonder if I should have Paine kick Sephiroth's butt one day?...nah, that would be too heartless. (smiles evilly)  
  
kronos: Welcome to the circle of TIAL reviewers. Hope to see more of you in the future.  
  
T.A.Skywalker: Hello! Long time no see. Did you ever finish reading up to Chapter Nine: Black Wolf? Your review is of Chapter Seven...  
  
Quela: Why would I be upset? I'd be so honored! When you're done, please send some pictures to me. I would love to see them! Thank you for caring. 


	12. 11: Return of the Knight

Disclaimer: Boy, am I SICK of writing disclaimers. From now on, this disclaimer applies for whatever else I write. I have no claim whatsoever to the ownership of the Final Fantasy series no matter how much I wish I do and long for the possession of a particular silver-haired guy.  
  
A Word From the Author: Uh...I have nothing really to say at all. Just keeping up tradition. Ignore my nonsense and please proceed, thank you!  
  
(Note: This chapter takes place a week after the previous.)  
  
Chapter Eleven: Return of the Knight  
  
It was promising to be another normal, routine day.  
  
Sephiroth stepped out of the dorm, books tucked securely under his arm, scratching himself irritably. The cadet uniforms seemed to have been designed for the express purpose of annoying the hell out of the students by being horribly uncomfortable, especially on hot days. If it wasn't for the miracle of air-conditioning, he would probably have thrown himself out of the window long ago just to escape the stifling heat. At least he would die cool rather than sweaty.  
  
And peaceful. At least death was quieter than his very noisy roommate. Luckily even Daniel, the King of Dense, and gotten the numerous hints Sephiroth had dropped meaningfully over the past week and had actually made a credible attempt at keeping his noise level down for the benefit of his roommate.  
  
Sephiroth was strolling to his first class on the list when he passed the cafeteria. He took a deep, appreciative sniff of the aroma wafting out of the kitchen and paused to glance at his chrono. Ah, what the hell. He was still fifteen minutes early anyway. He strode down the red path into the canteen. Inside, there were a few other early risers who had taken the opportunity of the early hour to grab some of the elusive hot dogs for breakfast before the others got up. Immensely popular among the SeeDs, the hot dogs sold out fast. Even the captain, surrounded by a group of his friends, were seated in a corner, loaded down with hot dogs.  
  
He joined the short queue and waited for his turn. When the cafeteria lady was ready to take his order, he asked for a couple of hot dogs. To his amazement, he had quickly developed a taste for the tasty snack, especially when drowned in tomato sauce and mustard. Maybe it was Shinra's company manufactured, 'nutritious' food, which tasted and smelled as good as fresh dog dung. Compared to 'that' nightmare course from hell, he'd take hot dogs any day.  
  
He sat down at the nearest unoccupied table and thoughtfully took a bite out of his still steaming hot dog. He burnt his tongue, but he didn't really care. He polished one off, licked the residue toppings off his fingers, and started on the second one with relish.  
  
Which was when a SeeD came bursting into the cafeteria, red-faced and gasping for lack of breath. He sprinted at top speed towards Arne Leonheart's table, and screeched to a stop, bending over and gulping in huge mouthfuls of air.  
  
Heads turned and all conversation and idle chitchat ceased. It wasn't everyday a student charged into the cafeteria to deliver what looked like an urgent message. Everyone strained to eavesdrop on what was passing between the captain and the messenger. Sephiroth sidled closer a bit without being too obvious, relying on his superior hearing to catch the words.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
"What is it, Wilson? Speak up," Arne said irritably.  
  
The messenger, finally satisfying his body's need of oxygen, straightened and threw a salute. "It's from Headmaster Fraden, sir. She wants you to see her immediately on the double. Because..." He hesitated and glanced at the avidly listening students, all looking suspiciously innocent. Then, seeing Arne's impatience gradually bloom across his face ominously, Wilson said hastily, "Perhaps the rest of the message should be relayed in private, sir?"  
  
Arne groaned as he heaved himself up, every movement reluctantly slow. Keire flashed him a smirk as he leaned forward and seized his captain's abandoned hot dogs. Arne offered him a cold, steely glare which only served to widen the instructor's wicked smile. "You owe me, Wulcan," he growled.  
  
"Yes, sir. But you shouldn't dally around like this; you know how upset Xu can get. Duty calls, sir," Keire drawled as he deliberately sunk his teeth into the bun, chewed, and swallowed with an exaggerated expression of bliss on his face. The assorted bunch of SeeDs around him burst into laughter.  
  
"Oh, damn, Keire, I'll get even later, I promise," Arne said sweetly, though there was a murderous gleam in his eye. He turned on his heel and followed Wilson out of the cafeteria. As they walked past Sephiroth towards the entrance, Wilson said quietly, "Seifer Almasy's come back, Captain. They found him, collapsed at the gate..." With that, they were gone, and the cafeteria burst into little buzzing whispers.  
  
Sephiroth mused over that tantalizing little snippet that Wilson had let drop while absently chewing on his hot dog. Wasn't the knight supposed to be far away in Centra? Maybe this was the sign that he was waiting for, that his brief respite at Garden was over. Much as he enjoyed the past week of tranquility, he had been born and bred a warrior, and the lack of serious battle was driving him mad. He wanted to be out there fulfilling whatever 'ultimate destiny' Bahamut had hinted at mysteriously during their last meeting. Now the routine had been broken, by the arrival of the notorious knight. What could this entail?  
  
The bell rang, shattering his thoughts. He cursed and leapt to his feet, along with every other student in the cafeteria, who had been too engrossed in their speculations to pay attention to the time.  
  
Sephiroth! —  
  
He started and the books spilled from his arms to land in a messy heap on the floor. He let out a few select oaths he had learnt in the docks of Junon Harbor and knelt to pick them up hurriedly, jamming them to his chest.  
  
(What do you want?) he growled at the Planet in an unfriendly tone.  
  
—The time is coming. You are taking your practical examinations in three days' time, are you not? —  
  
(Yes...I passed the written test yesterday. Why?) he answered cautiously, making a pretense of brushing the dust off his books in case anyone thought he was loony to be standing there staring off mindlessly into space with glazed eyes.  
  
—That will be too late. You must complete your trials by today—  
  
Sephiroth almost dropped his books again but managed to tighten his grip just in time. "What?" he blurted out, forgetting momentarily to mindtalk. A couple of stragglers gave him funny looks as they ran past to their classes. Taking a deep breath, he queried silently, (So what's the big hurry?)  
  
—The next SeeD examination is in two days' time. Whatever happens, you must be enrolled in it. And do not be concerned about how you are to secure a place in today's exams. A cadet has fallen ill and there is a vacancy. Just speak to your instructor to sign up—  
  
(But I haven't studied!) he protested.  
  
The Planet's silence was frigid and oppressive. He understood that this was not a request. This was an order. Sephiroth bristled even though he knew that the Planet was doing this for his own good.  
  
(I'll do it. But there's not much choice in the matter, right?)  
  
—You made the choice when you chose the path of redemption. There is no turning back—  
  
Sephiroth did a shrug as the Planet's presence receded from his mind. He glanced at the time and let out a few colorful phrases that would make people with more refined natures than his faint. Not only did he have to bear with the pressure of his impending exams, he was ten minutes late for class.  
  
He broke into a smooth lope. It was tough being a hero, Frankly, he didn't know why so many people bothered.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
(three hours later)  
  
"Seifer?"  
  
It was a gentle voice, soothing his raw and wounded psyche. The darkness lightened to a dull, lead gray through which he could not penetrate. Suddenly afraid of the light, he shrank from it, turning his face back to the soft comforting folds of the dark. Going back to the light meant that he had to face his memories, his failure, his terrible failure...  
  
"Seifer, wake up. You're among friends now."  
  
What friends? His lips would have curled into a bitter sneer had he been in control of his body at that moment. Even now, twenty years after the war, he still saw the old lurking fear, the hate, the dark memory flitting like intangible ghosts in their eyes, sometimes in Squall's and Rinoa's eyes too. It hurt him, cut him cruelly to the heart, and he wondered what they would say if they knew how their words lashed him more than any other torture.  
  
Or worst still, the words of forgiveness...  
  
(Which I don't deserve. Never.)  
  
(Not in a million years. Eternity in the pits of hell won't make up for all I've done...)  
  
Fingers touched his forehead briefly. He wanted the owner of the hand and the voice to go away, to let him sink back into sleep once again. But the unknown person persisted, and with a sigh, he relinquished the darkness. Now was the time to confront the reality.  
  
He braced himself and opened his gummy eyelids a crack. Silhouetted against the light were three figures, and their faces swam in and out of focus as he sought to adjust his eyes to the change from dark to the sudden brilliance.  
  
At last the room stopped spinning and Seifer was able to recognize them as Dr. Kadowadi, the kindly Balamb nurse, Xu Fraden, and Arne Leonheart. All wore expressions of varying concern and underlying grimness. He realized that he was currently in the school infirmary and the doctor must have been the person attempting to wake him up earlier. He gave the gray-haired woman a grateful nod, which she returned with a smile.  
  
The silence in the room felt awkward, and Seifer shifted uncomfortably on the bed. The moment lengthened, until Arne abruptly broke it by saying, "Seifer, I know you're injured and exhausted, but we really need to ask some questions. You were found covered in blood at the entrance, apparently collapsed from lack of rest, and kept mumbling the words, "She's in Coruthary," over and over again. Which is where, according to my father, you are supposed to be. If you're feeling well enough, I'll appreciate it if you could tell me the whole thing." He cast an appraising eye at Seifer. "Must have been one hell of an adventure."  
  
Seifer smiled wanly. "It was." The smile faded as his green eyes grew dark and haunted by some troubling thoughts. Looking directly at Arne, Seifer said solemnly, "There's not much to tell, actually. I reached Coruthary, alright. Damn place was buzzing with Galbadian soldiers. There were officers barking orders, soldiers running here and there and lots of big guns. It was pretty obvious that at last Galbadia had stopped with the empty threats and got down to business."  
  
Xu frowned. "This is not good. The governor of Coruthary has always been one of most generous benefactors. There is no doubt he'll call on us for aid."  
  
"But that will draw us into the battle and that treaty we signed with Galbadia five years ago will be so much trash," Arne observed gloomily. "Continue, please."  
  
"I snuck around a bit, hoping that I could get into the city somehow, but the Galbadians were too thorough. All the entrances, from the smallest mouse hole to the gates, have been sealed up and guarded by a dozen soldiers, who switch patrols every six hours. Seeing as a single man can't defeat an entire army by himself, I decided to leave to inform you of the new threat."  
  
"Not another one," Arne and Xu chimed together wryly in unison, exchanging looks.  
  
Seifer went on, ignoring the two SeeDs. "So, you know that Coruthary is kind of built on a plateau and sprawled over the slope? I was belly- crawling away when I spotted someone familiar." He licked his dry lips and bowed his head, his fingers aimlessly plucking at the white sheets as the weight of his guilt came crashing down onto his shoulders.  
  
"Who?" Interest filled Arne's eyes and he leaned forward subconsciously.  
  
Seifer looked miserable. "It was Avine Swifter."  
  
"What?!" Xu and Arne simultaneously yelled, disbelief etched onto their faces. "What was she doing there?" Arne demanded, while Xu snapped, "Are you sure?" in a tone that seemed to question his sanity. Their voices blended together into nearly incomprehensible gibberish and Seifer held up his hands defensively against the barrage of questions hitting him.  
  
"Hey! Cut it out! One question at a time, please," he requested.  
  
Both took deep breaths, returning to their usual composed selves. Xu spoke first in a tone vibrating with suppressed excitement. "Are you absolutely sure she was there? In Galbadian hands?"  
  
"I'm not blind, okay? I've seen her before; I know how she looks like, for Hyne's sake!" Seifer said impatiently.  
  
"That wasn't meant to be a slight on your intelligence," Xu apologized. "Did she look...fine? Were the Galbadians doing anything to her?"  
  
Seifer thought back. "She was...unguarded. She was standing alone at first, a little off to the side, just watching the Galbadians go about their business and making no attempt to escape." Xu and Arne exchanged puzzled looks at his narrative. "Then, she happened to turn around...and she saw me. I locked eyes with her for a moment." Seifer shivered at the memory. "Her eyes...they were dead. So empty, so hopeless, they belonged to a corpse. I don't even know if she recognized me. Nevertheless, she didn't give the alarm. We stared at each other, and then..." He swallowed hard, remembering.  
  
The feat flooded back in waves as he forced himself to speak. "Then a hooded person came out of a tent and headed for Avine. The strange thing was, it was uncomfortably warm, and this person was all swathed in cloth, with the cowl drawn up and hiding the features from view. Avine didn't respond, but somehow the person knew I was there. It turned around and looked at me. I couldn't see anything at first, then it ripped off the hood and..." His voice faltered and cracked on the last word.  
  
"Water," he whispered huskily.  
  
Silently, Dr. Kadowadi handed him a glass of water. Seifer sat up shakily with Xu's help and downed the cool liquid, rejuvenating his parched throat. He lay back and continued his story, recounting it with horror.  
  
"It was a she. The most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on...and yet she was hideous as well, flawed somehow that spoiled that beauty. But her eyes...oh, Hyne...that was what scared me the most, and I don't mind admitting that. They were golden, like Ultimecia's, like Edea's, the eyes of a full- fledged sorceress. They bore into my soul, and she knew all my secrets. She smiled; she extended a hand...I could sense the raw power, practically an aura that radiated in a halo of light around her body." Seifer paused, his eyes staring, recalling the touch of those amber eyes on his skin—scorching, seductive, tempting...  
  
Arne flinched at Seifer's description of the strange woman. "Did she have...did she have violet hair?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Seifer gazed at him, astonished. "How did you know?" Clear the memory was, of her hair, freed from the restricting hood, flying free in the wind, glittering and shiny as polished amethysts.  
  
"Never mind," Arne shook his head, waving a hand, while Xu stared at the two men in consternation.  
  
"You've been touched by her too, haven't you?" Seifer asked in sudden understanding.  
  
Arne said nothing. He did not have to. His eyes were a mirror of Seifer's own, wild, seeking assurance, filled with fear of the unknown. Seifer cleared his throat and proceeded. "I broke. I ran, leaving Avine behind again. I don't think my legs have ever run faster. The soldiers saw me then, of course, and I got a few bullets, mostly grazes, though one did embed itself in the crook of my elbow. I ran like a madman, not because of the bullets, just to get away from her, as far as I could."  
  
"I don't know how long I was running, but it was a long time. I dressed my wound as best as I could. Luckily, I had managed to retain my pack and provisions during my insane run, so I didn't starve. I had a potion that I drank which slowed the bleeding. Then I somehow made my way to the beach, got my boat, and zoomed off to Balamb harbor. I would have rented a car, but I was so tired I would probably have crashed. So, I ran as fast as I could down the path to Garden, and upon sighting my goal, fell unconscious, the glorious spectacle you found."  
  
He fell silent, and Xu and Arne turned to each other.  
  
"The treaty has been broken, and not by us," Xu declared grimly. "Galbadia kidnapped one of ours; we have proof now. We are free to take military action against Galbadia. Contact your grandfather, Arne; we'll need all the help we can get."  
  
Arne fidgeted. "Xu, could that woman be...a sorceress?" he asked softly. "Isn't there only one sorceress now—Avine?"  
  
"I suppose the rest of your family should know too. And Edea, since both she and Rinoa were once sorceresses. They might make something of this." Xu sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "Damn...wasn't a demented sorceress from the future bad enough? Now a new one has to pop up like a jack-in-the- box."  
  
"Great. Now they'll think that she'll try to recruit me too," Seifer muttered without humor, not looking at either of them.  
  
"Who cares what they think. I'm the Headmaster," Xu stated flatly while Arne left quietly to call Laguna. "And much as it pains me to say this, I trust you."  
  
"It means more than I can say," Seifer replied seriously, to Xu's surprise—in the old days, he would have made some sarcastic jab about how he was so touched. The sincerity and pain in his voice tugged at her heartstrings and she couldn't help but put a hand on his shoulder. "Not everyone feels that way about you," she said as gently as she could. "If they could see you now, hear you, they would know. There are too many lies in the rumors, and they believe those lies, because it is easiest to believe you were evil. But we know the truth. Because we know you." She tried to sound comforting, and Seifer managed a small smile.  
  
"Thank you for understanding," he said in a hushed voice. There was a small moment between them as Xu squeezed his shoulder and smiled back.  
  
The door whooshed open and Arne darted in, horror in every movement of his body. Xu glanced at him and almost recoiled at the shock and grief that twisted Arne's handsome face. Without a word, Arne dropped to the floor, his head on his knees, rocking back and fro. For the first time, Xu saw her captain's iron control break right in front of her eyes.  
  
"Oh, gods, what happened, Arne?" she asked, dropping to her knees and shaking Arne slightly. Seifer watched, alarm on his face.  
  
Arne lifted his face; tears streaked his cheeks, his eyes were wild, distraught, bleak with nameless sorrow. "Oh, Hyne, Xu...Grandfather...they..." He was unable to go on as a lump rose in his throat. He fought the tears back, a whimper escaping his lips.  
  
"What's happened to President Loire?" Xu said sternly, hoping to snap Arne out of his crying.  
  
An eerie calmness descended upon Arne. Even as he opened his mouth to speak, Seifer suddenly knew, like a premonition of chaos ahead, what the younger man was going to say next. His soul cried out to Arne not to say it, not to make it final; the confirmation of his darkest, deepest fears.  
  
"He was assassinated."  
  
...................................................................................................  
  
Author's Ending Note: How's that for a cliffhanger? (Smirks) Sorry for the major delay in updating. Once I can think up a good practical exam for Sephiroth I'll post the next chapter up, which will also take a long time in coming up because my dad put a new password on the computer. Grrr... Hey, stop that! (runs as several furious Laguna fans arrive in hot pursuit, armed with sharp, pointy objects) See you next chapter! (disappears over the horizon)  
  
Travithian Axile signing out  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Omega Paladin: I wasn't implying that you SAID that there was a romantic bond between them. It just occurred to me that some people might just see it that way, and I was basically repeating my no Seph/OC warning from before in case some people had missed it. Anyhow, thanks for the encouragement!  
  
Dark Feruil: Wow...I don't feel I deserve the praise...but hey, the reader is always right! The plot is going faster...you'll see some more hints of his 'ultimate destiny' in the next few chapters.  
  
zornoid13: Hello, and welcome! I would appreciate it if you specified exactly which parts are interesting and which aren't. Every comment serves to improve the story.  
  
Noacat: Hee, thanks! That junctioning thing was something I cobbled together from some fanfics I had read and some of my own stuff.  
  
Mantichorus: Okay, here goes: Jenova was a sorceress called Adele from Gaia. She attempted to do something evil (which will be elaborated on later) which caused her to be banished and deformed by Hyne. She chanced upon the Planet and tried to take over it, by making Sephiroth pursue godhood. Then she could devour the souls of the Lifestream to become stronger. She failed. Cloud didn't kill her; she escaped, discovered that Hyne was taking a little vacation from Gaia, and entered her old home to recuperate. She allied with Edigier Deling to achieve world domination. She had a second agenda—revenge on Hyne for what he did to her. Her blood flows in Sephiroth's veins, so he is currently the second strongest being on Gaia and therefore the only one who could challenge her. His destiny is to help the heroes defeat her. Jenova can't die in the Planet, but she CAN die here.  
  
Hope you understood. And I haven't decided on what FF7 characters I will use, but I will definitely consider Nanaki. And I didn't know the Planet was also called Gaia when I wrote this, so I hope no one gets confused.  
  
aer-seph4eva: (laughs at the idea too) Sephiroth and Siren. Maybe when the moon falls from the sky.  
  
mononoke: Nah, there are much better crossovers than mine. Try Refugee's Genesis and A Knight of Spira. You'll love it.  
  
Zero-no-uta: Thanks for the TWO reviews! Hope you had fun at your camp. See ya! 


	13. 12: Stab in the Back

A Word from the Author: Gasp...has it really been THREE weeks since I last updated? Gosh, I'm SO sorry, but I've been really busy lately, coping with a lot of tests and studying like hell I didn't have much time for writing. Well, now I'm back with another chapter! Hope you enjoy it and forgive me for deserting TIAL for so long. See ya at the bottom of this page when you're done (vanishes in a cloud of mystical-smelling smoke)  
  
(Note: This chapter takes place a day before the previous.)  
  
Chapter Twelve: Stab in the Back  
  
"For the last time, NO!" Laguna snapped impatiently, rising to his feet and clenching his feet in annoyance. He slammed it down onto the tabletop between himself and the Galbadian envoy who observed his display of anger with an inscrutable expression and the faint, slightly patronizing smile of a parent watching a child have a temple tantrum.  
  
"Are you certain, President Loire?" he asked in a steady, courteous tone after Laguna had calmed down somewhat. "Surely you can see the benefits of an alliance with Galbadia President Deling has so graciously offered you. You should be honored to join forces with such a prestigious nation."  
  
Laguna looked at the man, as though he was something that had just been scraped off his shoe. "And work against my own family? I don't think so, somehow."  
  
The envoy flashed a smile that was dazzling in its charm and honesty. Laguna didn't buy it one bit, especially upon hearing the Galbadian's next words. "Ah, but President Loire, your duty comes first to your country, not your family. I believe that is written down somewhere in the inauguration speech?" The smile on his face twisted into a subtle sneer of mockery that made Laguna long to see his fist planted in the man's nose, but he held himself back. If the president of Esthar was reported to have punched one of Galbadia's ambassador in the face, Edigier Deling, known for his pride and arrogance, would declare war on Esthar before Laguna could even blink twice. The man knew this, and knew that Laguna knew, and beneath the fake smile there was an underlying triumph.  
  
Half an hour earlier the slender, greasy-haired man had arrived at the palace and requested an audience with President Loire, a request that Laguna couldn't very well ignore. The envoy had been escorted to Laguna's office under heavy guard, unfazed despite the seven high-power laser guns pointed at his head and torso, every one of them capable of frying him like a slab of bacon in a frying pan on top of a blazing fire. He had introduced himself as Gerald Marling, the President of Galbadia's personal secretary, and that he had Very Important Business to discuss and would Laguna please listen while he talked. Laguna had dismissed the guards and let Gerald speak, for about tem minutes. During the whole time, Laguna had grown steadily redder and increasingly pissed off, but restraining himself with a rare amount of will-power like a volcano trying not to erupt. After all, this was delicate political business. One always had to tread carefully in this area. He kept repeating it to himself like a mantra and was just feeling that throbbing vein in his forehead starting to go down when, Gerald, in that cheerful, slick, insulting way of his, out of the blue, just casually suggested breaking the Gaian Treaty.  
  
To say that Laguna was shocked was a gross understatement. He was scandalized, stunned, and for a full ten seconds his mind ripped free from his skull and started orbiting the moon at top speed, while back on Gaia his mouth fell open and stayed that way. Taking this is a sign of submission, the ambassador continued talking (of all the guys Laguna had met in his whole life, this was the one that loved to hear himself talk the most, and he compared him unfavorably to Ward) while Laguna remained gaping like the moron he had used to be, his mind racing.  
  
No wonder, because the Treaty had been signed right after the second Sorceress War, by all the leaders of the major governments in the world, including himself. By signing the document, each and every one had sworn never to go into war for personal gain again, and Cid Kramer, retired headmaster of Balamb Garden, had made a grand speech about how the treaty symbolized 'a beginning of a golden age of peace and serenity while we rebuild the pieces of ourselves lost in the traumatic war.'  
  
Gerald was asking him a question, but he didn't hear, his ears filled with buzzing, as though a hundred Bite Bugs were invading his office. Galbadia had betrayed his trust, Squall's trust, everyone's trust. Without their co- operation, the Treaty was so much waste paper. And Avine, Avine, who had gone missing just days ago...suspicions bloomed thick in his mind, and his eyes narrowed, suddenly hard and exceedingly unfriendly.  
  
Gerald saw the change in the president, and knew then this was a lost cause. But he was bound by Edigier's explicit orders, and in truth he did not really have anything against Laguna, other than the fact that the other man controlled a city full of technologically advanced ships and weapons that meant potential harm towards his homeland. So he kept talking, persuading, until Laguna had pounded his fist against the desk, a very clear message telling him to shut up.  
  
Laguna gazed at him, his expression full of anger and disbelief. "Tell Edigier to butt out of my business. I, for one, want nothing to do with Galbadia, and my city is far better off without the presence of those hulking-headed bigots."  
  
Gerald felt his lips tighten at the obvious dismissal and barely veiled insult. "Very well, President, have it your way." Stiffly, gathering up his papers and stuffing them into a black briefcase, he rose and bowed, a curt, cold bow . Laguna pressed a button on his desk, and a moment later the door opened, admitting the seven armored guards who had accompanied him here. Gerald began walking away, and then paused and said over his shoulder, "Are you sure you won't reconsider, President? Galbadia makes a good friend."  
  
Both men heard the unvoiced threat hanging in the air, though the words went unvoiced. Laguna's eyes were hard as flint as he replied, "With friends like that, who needs enemies?"  
  
Gerald's demeanor, if possible, became even frostier. He bowed again, somehow managing to convey scorn and contempt in his body actions rather than respect. "Then I shall respect your wishes, President," he said through his teeth, his tone suggesting that the thoughts going through his head right then were far from what he had just said. "But don't say I didn't warn you." For a small, fleeting second he sounded almost regretful, and the feeling that the regret was genuine only struck Laguna as more ominous. Then Gerald was swaggering away, flanked at both sides by his faithful retinue of guards. The door closed behind them and he was alone.  
  
Wearily Laguna rose to his feet and stretched. The long hours of sitting in a hard, high-backed chair had taken its toll on his tired body. Long gone were the days he had explored with his friends, traveling the world as a journalist, recently spat from the jaws of war and glad for a rest. He had been a young man in his early twenties, eager to dare the world and take on every challenge tossed his way. Now he was sixty-one years of age, and his trusty machine gun had been packed away, though occasionally he still opened the case to run his fingers lovingly over it, remembering the days of adventure and danger he had led. How far away those times seemed now. Even the memory of Raine had mellowed like old wine, and now when he thought of her it was with a faint, wistful ache and sweet joy, rather than the sharp pain of fresh sorrow and guilt that had plagued him for years after she had died.  
  
Ward was dead too. That memory was still new, and sometimes Laguna's eyes would blur with tears for a second or two as he thought of his army buddy. The three of them, he, Kiros and Ward, had often gone and pulled off more missions than he could count together, often with daring, idiotic strategies usually devised by himself. Ward had passed away just last year at the age of sixty-nine, as Laguna still missed his silent, reassuring company at his side. At Ward's funeral, a small, solemn affair, attended by a small group of officers including Kiros and himself, Laguna distinctly remembered standing beside Kiros and staring at the grave for a long, long time before they had been able to drag their eyes away, unable to believe that Ward was leaving without them, that the bear-like man with a soft heart that belied his scarred visage was dead and would never share a drink with them again, that one day he had just had been there, silent as always but larger than life, was gone the next and he would be gone forever.  
  
At least he still had Kiros and his family. Laguna smiled a little as he thought of Squall, who had taken Raine's surname and continuing to keep it even after he had learnt that Laguna was his father. Squall had gradually, grudgingly, come to accept the truth about his parentage, and though sometimes cold and aloof, Laguna, in his own way, had also accepted that that was an unchangeable part of Squall Leonheart and there was no way that he could hope for anything better. And then there was Arne, his grandchild, so like his father that Laguna's heart swelled with pride every time he looked at Arne. Arne adored his grandfather, though he ceased with public displays of affection after he became thirteen, and a few days ago he had phoned to say that he was arriving at Esthar next week with the family to 'take a break from the boss'.  
  
An electronic buzz from a little gadget installed next to his desk brought Laguna's mind screeching back from the present. He jabbed at a key on the computer in front of him and a new window popped up, showing an image transmitted from a high resolution security camera perched in an inconspicuous place above the door that was connected to his computer. A picture formed, blurry at first, but slowly sharpening to show a thin, freckle-faced teenage boy in a scruffy-looking shirt and jeans standing outside. He held a tray and a cup in his hands, tapping his foot impatiently and whistling a little ditty that the sound sensor picked Laguna desperately needed a cup, sweet and black and strong, after his verbal battle with the Galbadian envoy. Strange and ironic that he, by birth a Galbadian and once a Galbadian soldier in the army who had fought against Estharian troops, would end up bad-mouthing a Galbadian and all Galbadians in general and, to boot, the president of the very city he had once attacked, following orders given to him by his commander blindly. If anyone had informed him he was to be a very important person someday thirty years ago, he would have laughed and told that person that he was drunk.  
  
Now, he could only reflect on its strangeness.  
  
He pressed the intercom button and said clearly into it, "Come in, Jeremy." At the same time he jabbed at the button that opened the door. The boy stepped in carefully, holding the tray gingerly. "Fresh-brewed, sir, straight from the pot," he said with a sunny smile that lit up his whole face. He had one of those honest, guileless faces that made people trust and take to him immediately, and an open, engaging smile that caused people to smile back. He wasn't particularly good looking, being scrawny and somewhat homely, with an overlarge nose and straggly black hair, but there was a natural charisma about him that attracted friends like fleas. He had come here a year ago seeking a job, and Laguna had made him the 'messenger boy', meaning that he often ran to and fro between the offices delivering memos and the like, and their coffee when they asked for it.  
  
Jeremy set down the tray gently, putting it down on a small side table to Laguna's left. He flashed his mega-watt smile at the President. "Will there be anything else you require, sir?" he asked, his voice cracking at odd moments, having hit the strains of puberty a few months back.  
  
Laguna smiled back. "No, that's all, Jeremy. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome, sir." As Laguna lifted the cup from the tray, Jeremy quickly added, "Careful, sir. It's scalding hot."  
  
The President sipped at the black liquid. It rejuvenated his worn system, and he felt like an empty battery plugged to an electrical outlet. Jeremy did not move. He was staring at Laguna with an odd, tight, intense expression. "Do you need a paper towel, sir?" he asked, his tones strained, for some reason or other. "In case you spill."  
  
Laguna stared at his messenger boy, wondering what was wrong with Jeremy. He seemed unusually jumpy and edgy all of a sudden. "Are you unwell? You don't look good." It was true that the teenager was sweating heavily, with heavy bags beneath his eyes.  
  
Jeremy shook his head. "Just fine, sir," he croaked. He turned and had just reached the door when Laguna felt the first indications that all was not well.  
  
He dropped the cup, gagging as sudden nausea twisted his stomach inside out. Black liquid splashed across his desk, soaking up several documents on the surface and his computer, which gave an odd fizz and went dark. Some spilled onto his skin, burning the flesh, but it was nothing compared to the greater pain he was feeling now. It was as though somebody had stuck a knife into his intestines and was twisting it around again and again. His heart thudded madly in his ribcage, and in desperation he called, "Jeremy! Don't go! Help me!" His dimming eyesight saw the boy, standing still and frozen in front of the door, his face slightly averted so that Laguna could not see his face. Hyne, don't tell me the boy's gone into shock, Laguna thought, as he fell face first into the computer, smelling the sickly sweet aroma of the coffee, still strong on the air.  
  
Then Jeremy's strong hands were on his shoulders, and Laguna felt a flare of hope. It was getting harder to breathe; he struggled to find air enough to feed his oxygen-starved body. He gazed into Jeremy's hazel eyes, seeking reassurance. "Get help," he whispered, barely enough strength left to say anything else.  
  
Jeremy leaned forward and whispered something into his President's ear, softly, almost comfortingly. The President's face contorted in agony; his body shook spasmodically one final time, then fell limp. Jeremy released the body and let Laguna fall lifelessly on his desk. For a few seconds Jeremy stared at the corpse, eyes blank, unseeing, then he wiped up the mess systematically, tossing the wet towel into the disposal tube when he was done. Then he ran out of the still open door, screaming.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
The guards were alerted at once, and Doctor Haivar Pendragon, who had replaced Dr. Odin as Head of the Science Department after his death, arrived at the scene almost instantly. He was disappointed to hear from Jeremy that he had cleared up the coffer 'as a reflex action' before he had come for help. The second highest-ranking government official was sent for at once, a balding, fox-eyed man named Skeiz Mardon, who was the current vice-president. He surveyed the scene and ordered a full investigation immediately. Jeremy was released from custody after an hour of interrogation and the unfortunate maid who had made the coffee was held for questioning.  
  
Wearily, Jeremy made his way back home, a shabby apartment which was all he could afford in high-class Esthar. He flopped on the bed and pulled off his scuffed trainers, but he did not sleep, just kept his eyes glued to the ceiling and the myriad cracks spread across it. His eyes flicked to his chrono now and then, but otherwise he was quite still.  
  
When his cell phone rang, vibrating against his skin, he did not start, just pulled it out and answered the phone. It was a good model, and the line was free of any static, so the man's voice came through loud and clear.  
  
"Have you done what I asked, son?" the man asked.  
  
Jeremy smiled, his lips curving, and suddenly the image of the good boy, the honest boy, he had worked so hard to maintain was gone, and the difference between the two faces of the boy was eerily frightening. This Jeremy's eyes were filled with malice, his smile full of arrogance and satisfaction at a job well done. He stretched out his legs and threw them over the side of the bed. "Of course I have, father. When have I ever failed you?"  
  
The man laughed. "You have a lot of me in you, Jeremy. You know what to do afterwards?"  
  
"I'll fly back to Deling City tomorrow," he promised, swinging his feet to and fro jubilantly. He suddenly started laughing; the laughter of an insane psychopath. "You should have seen his face, father!" he choked out, tears of mirth running down from the corner of his eyes to mix with the spittle bubbling out of his mouth.  
  
"Do you know what I told him before he died? So my betrayal would be the last thing on his mind and deny him a peaceful rest. I told him, 'With friends like me, there's no way a guy will ever need enemies. Sleep tight, president.'" He laughed again, almost hysterical.  
  
"Yes. Very amusing, son. Good job, and goodbye." His father disconnected and Jeremy fell back onto the bed, still laughing loud and long, his sadistic nature at last bursting free out of the bars he had placed around it to fool everyone else, including Laguna, and he'd paid dearly. Still giggling, showing no indication of ever stopping, Jeremy picked up a pen knife from his dresser, his blade stained as though with rust.  
  
"One more," he hissed elatedly, and the blade bit deep into the flesh, red blood coloring his skin scarlet, adding one more scar to the other thin white lines that decorated his skin like a child's scrawling drawings. He raised his arm to his mouth and licked at the wound savagely, biting at it and tearing the small wound open wider.  
  
"One more death to damn my soul," he shouted, and burst out laughing again, laughing until he was exhausted and finally falling asleep, his mouth still red with blood, the knife clutched tightly in one hand, cradling it against him like it was his dearest child.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
Meanwhile, in Galbadia, Deling City...  
  
The man clicked his cell phone shut, glancing at the President of Galbadia, who watched him closely through half-lidded eyes. He was impeccably dressed as usual, settled comfortably into an armchair, his fingers folded together. He said lazily, "Well, don't keep us in suspense, Angus. Was Jeremy successful?"  
  
Feder nodded, smirking. "My son's insanity does have its uses sometimes," he said with paternal pride, as though merely discussing his son's achievements in school with another parent.  
  
"And Skeiz has what he wants. And we have what we want. Such is the fun of power and bribery, Angus," Edigier Deling mused, staring into space. Feder just waited patiently, used to Edigier's occasional ramblings.  
  
"Come, for we have much things to accomplish, Angus," Edigier said suddenly, standing up. "The murder of the Galbadian traitor was but the first step in a long chain of events. Such a pity that he could have forgotten his own roots, Angus. And he was so talented too. I hate waste, but it was necessary. Cut off the diseased parts, and the body is whole again. Is that not so, Angus?"  
  
The two men departed, not knowing, or caring that twenty-four hours later the grandson of Laguna Loire would be crying out in agony over the loss of his grandfather...  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
Author's Ending Note: And so the plot thickens. I know I promised more Sephiroth goodness, and it will be up next chapter, so don't be mad at me. I just felt it would be ideal to show how Laguna died just to prolong the story. Yeah, and Laguna's well and truly dead. No resurrections or ghostly visits or sudden recoveries or anything. And, as the author, I feel I should warn you that more canon characters than Laguna and Ward will die in this story, sadly. Anyway, Seph's practical exam will really and truly be up next time I post, so remember to check your e-mail or regularly!  
  
Travithian Axile signing out  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Hikari-SephyObsesser: It's nothing personal against Laguna and Squall. I really like them, honest.  
  
Noacat: Oh dear, loads of people seem to be mourning over Laguna's death. And thank you for the compliment about Seifer! I was thinking that he was a little too remorseful to be realistic, though.  
  
Dark Feruil: In answer to your question, yes. After all, Sephiroth still hasn't passed his field exam. (hint, hint)  
  
Zero-no-uta: No Sephiroth here, sorry! 


	14. 13: The Practical Exam

A Word From the Author: Yet another late chapter. I seem to have trouble keeping my vow to update my story every week. Argh. Too many exams, that's what it's all about! I can't cope. Well, enough of my self-pitiful moaning and feast your eyes on the long-awaited chapter on our favorite silver- haired villain's (or hero, whatever) field exam! (bows and stands aside)  
  
Chapter Thirteen: The Practical Exam  
  
(Note: This chapter takes place the afternoon after Chapter Eleven)  
  
Sephiroth stood with a small group of about five other cadets at the gates of Balamb Garden. Instructor Rynee was doing the briefing. She was reading out the names of the participants from a printout in her hand, and when she was done she moved on to the rules of the practical examination. "Each of you," she announced, "will be paired up with an instructor who will take you to meet your challenge. You will only know what you will face when you reach your destination. Any questions?"  
  
A boy raised his hand and asked, "Will we fighting monsters or people?"  
  
"Like I said," Rynee said with a nonchalant shrug, "That's for you to find out when you reach where you need to go. If that's all, the instructors will be taking you out now. You will leave one pair at a time." She rolled the printout up and gave a curt nod. "Remember, make sure that you are properly junctioned and equipped with both weapon and magic. If you fail this test, you will have to re-sit the theory and practical exam. Understood?"  
  
No more queries were raised, and soon the pairs were walking out of the gates. After the third pair had departed, Sephiroth followed a tall woman with totally unassuming features that gave her the ability to blend easily in any city in the world. She did not give him her name, and mentally he daubed her as Instructor 'Bland'.  
  
After walking for about fifteen minutes across the grasslands, Bland plunged into a forest, following a little-used overgrown trail hidden beneath the leaves even his enhanced eyesight could barely make out. She strode with confidence and unerring accuracy, obviously very familiar with the path. Sephiroth couldn't figure out what she was using for landmarks. They walked deeper into the forest, and after some time the trail evened out and broadened, bearing the signs of more use. Another path crossed it at this point, bearing recently imprinted footprints. Bland ignored the branching road and resumed her course. At last she halted so suddenly that Sephiroth almost bumped into her. He looked around, a little surprised. She had stopped right in a front of what looked like an impenetrable barrier of worn and weathered stone that rose out of the ground and blocked their way.  
  
"Choose a time limit," she said in a soft, almost expressionless voice, turning around to face him.  
  
He named the minimum time limit for maximum results. "Ten minutes," he replied.  
  
"Good luck," Instructor Bland answered, drawing a coiled whip from her belt. She pressed a palm to the wall and leaned close so that her back obscured her actions. Her shoulders moved a little, then she stepped back to reveal a gaping doorway in the wall. "Down there," she said unnecessarily, pointing, before entering the hole.  
  
The silver-haired youth raised an eyebrow as he hastily copied her actions. He settled his weight gingerly, cautiously, and was relieved when the surface below supported his weight. A white light beamed suddenly, piercing the darkness, shining on the stone steps he was standing on. "Careful," Bland advised from a few steps in front of him. "It's a little steep."  
  
Using his hands to guide him, Sephiroth inched his way down, keeping the instructor's bobbing flashlight in sight. It was quite a short flight of steps, and Sephiroth soon stood on flat ground, absorbing the sights. He was in a huge stone compound below the ground and lit by powerful electric lamps mounted on the ceiling. In the center was a raised platform, made of gleaming steel that looked innocuously out of place amidst the stone. At one end was a closed portal barred with thick iron bars. Other cadets already stood on the sidelines, looking nervous.  
  
Bland and Sephiroth joined the group, and Rynee called out above the noise of the students' mutterings. "The rules are simple. You walk onto the arena and fight whatever thing that comes out of those doors. Your instructor is there to make sure you don't die on us. You ought to have chosen your time limit already. Ready? First pair up there is Colin Grierson and Instructor Gabriel Dunsern."  
  
A sandy-haired cadet gulped apprehensively and reluctantly trooped up the stairs that led to the platform, looking little reassured by the presence of the instructor, which urged him along. When he set foot on the steel surface, the stairs let out a hissing sound and retracted from the platform, stranding both cadet and instructor there. Colin's face turned a sickly shade of gray and he clutched his spear tighter. The instructor looked exasperated and apparently managed to reassure the boy, for Colin managed to set the spear into a defensive position, though his knees still shook somewhat.  
  
"Fifteen minutes...starting now!" Rynee declared, and an electronic timer on the wall glowed green and began ticking down. The adamantine doors of the portal hissed open and a dire howl sounded. A silver mist floated out, heralding the arrival of Colin's adversary.  
  
With a snap of its long jaws, the wolf appeared. It was long and gray and lean, with deadly ivory fangs and palely shining silver eyes that glittered with stars. Colin gasped, a gasp that was echoed by the rest of the cadets as they all realized that they would not be fighting ordinary monsters, but rather low-level Guardian Forces. A girl turned very white and sagged against the nearest instructor, who rolled his eyes and gently pushed the terrified cadet back upright.  
  
/Mortal/ the wolf thundered in the minds of those gathered there. /I am Valiance, silver wolf of the night. He who defeats me will command me. Let the battle begin./ Seemingly eager for a fight, the wolf lowered its head and pawed the ground like an impatient stallion.  
  
Colin rook a deep breath, his skin glistening with sweat. He cast Scan to determine the weaknesses and strengths of the wolf, and his eyes brightened with resolution. He twirled his spear and shouted out the words of a spell. The air around the wolf wavered and rippled, becoming liquid. The wolf snarled as its form was surrounded by water. It disappeared for a moment, then appeared with a soft 'pop'! right in front of Colin. The boy staggered back as he realized that not only his spell had failed, Valiance had also the ability to teleport. However, he managed to gather himself and struck at the wolf, scoring a bloody gash on its shoulder blade. The wolf shook itself and retreated a little, eyeing the spear warily, its long tail swishing from side to side.  
  
In one sudden, sleek move, the wolf lunged, swift as quicksilver, sinking its jaws into Colin's spear arm. Gray, sparkling mist leaked out of the edges of the wolf's lips as it bit hard. Colin let out an agonized yell, tears in his eyes, but retained the presence of mind to hold on to his spear and switch hands. Sensing danger, the wolf rolled aside as Colin struck. The spearhead sank into the wolf's hindquarters and, as the wolf twisted in an attempt to shake it off, the metal bent and lodged into the bone. Colin seized the opportunity to twist it deeper, causing Valiance to growl softly in pain. It whirled around and unleashed its starry breath in Colin's face. Where the mist made contact with Colin's skin, the flesh grew gray and rimed with silver frost that made Colin wince as he moved his limbs. The wound on his arm was covered in ice stained red with blood.  
  
Colin ducked, and the wolf did not harm him this time. It swiped viciously at the boy with its sharp claws, and Colin bore the pain of the claws ripping through his flesh stoically, leaning forward and thrusting his fingers deep into the wolf's open jaws. The wolf's mouth closed almost spasmodically, and Colin's body shook as tendons tore. The wolf's silvery eyes widened, then water gushed out of its mouth in unending streams. Valiance choked on the veritable waterfall born in its throat, a result of Colin's clever spell. Its natural weakness being water, the pain was more than it could bear as it drowned its icy breath and stole its wind.  
  
/The round is yours/ the wolf rasped. /Cease your torment/  
  
Colin, his face pale and drawn, yet exultant with victory, pumped his good fist in the air, and carefully removed his injured hand from the wolf's slack mouth, which streamed blood freely. He grimaced at the sight. Instructor Dunsern, who had been watching, poised for action, rushed forward and cast a powerful Curaga on the boy's wounds. They glowed with a soft white light for a moment before closing, leaving only pink scars. However, Colin's skin tone remained gray, and he had to walk down the stairs with the help of the instructor. Valiance padded behind slowly, one of its hind legs dragging. The spear had been removed, and was now clutched tightly in Colin's hand. The wolf spoke telepathically to the boy, then dissolved into gray smoke, returning to the Guardians' plane.  
  
"Congratulations," Rynee praised. "A definite pass. Next...will Sephiroth and Instructor Freya Blackthorn please step up?"  
  
His face impassive, the youth walked up to the platform, unsheathing the Masamune in one quick movement. As usual, Instructor Bland –Freya Blackthorn—remained mute and stood at one corner for the rest of the battle. Sephiroth readied his sword, the adrenaline pumping through his veins causing his sight and hearing to become even sharper. Being genetically engineered not to feel fear, Sephiroth ignored the foreign emotion and concentrated instead on his goal.  
  
The door opened, and the Guardian he was to fight came out, accompanied by a shining black aura. It was a nightmare, with a sleek, obsidian coat deeper and purer than any other black he had ever seen. Orange and blue flames danced like fevered dervishes in its eye sockets and hooves. Its mane was pure fire, and Sephiroth could feel the heat emanating from it even so far away. Wickedly jagged fangs curved past its lower lip. Black- feathered wings arched, oddly graceful, from its back, rainbows shimmering in its glossy depths in the glare of the fluorescent lights. A twisted horn that was stained rust red on its sharp tip protruded from its forehead, gleaming a smooth obsidian. It stopped a few feet away, its eyes containing the all the depth and horror and hell.  
  
/I am called Ebon, Ebon the Nightmare/ it told him in low, sinuous tones. Its wings stretched towards the ceiling, and its red eyes flared. /You dare challenge me, mortal?/  
  
"Why not?" Sephiroth retorted, his green eyes narrowing, glowing almost as brightly as the hellish orbs of the black horse. He mentally prepared a Scan spell in his mind. At the back of his brain, Diablos shouldered forward to have a better look at the foe, laughing softly at the sight. The youth chose to ignore his Guardian's interruption and moved closer to the nightmare, determined not to waste too much of his allotted ten minutes.  
  
Ebon's lips stretched wide in what could almost be described as a smile. The nightmare spread its wings and hovered above the ground. Sephiroth pondered what to do as he kept the nightmare at bay with the Masamune. The nightmare had greater maneuverability in air, and normally Sephiroth could have called upon his innate powers of levitation to attack. But that would mean revealing his true powers, and the Planet had strictly cautioned him against that.  
  
Ebon seemed to sense his hesitation. /Do I sense fear, mortal?) the winged horse gloated, lips peeling back to show sharp teeth. It dived, avoiding the sting of Masamune's bite, kicking at the youth with steel-shod hooves that burned with fire. Sephiroth wasn't overly concerned about getting burned since he was immune to fire, but he was worried about showing the SeeDs his invulnerability. He dropped to a crouch and jabbed at the nightmare's belly as it overshot and stayed in its position for a few critical seconds. The Masamune connected, glowing white hot with the intense heat of the nightmare's blood. Ebon pulled away with a flap of its wings and circled slightly higher.  
  
Sephiroth's intuitive sense told him to duck, and he did, just as Ebon rushed towards him from behind, so close that the wind of his passing stirred Sephiroth's silver hair. Cat-quick, Sephiroth spread his fingers and cast a spell, sending bolts of ice shooting towards the horse. It punctured its rump and side before melting. Ebon hissed, sounding immensely displeased at missing its target. It seemed to decide to cut out the direct approaches and cast a spell, causing Sephiroth's surroundings to erupt in a sheet of orange fire. It licked his skin, which remained unscarred and unblemished. Though he could feel the searing the searing heat if the burning fire, he felt no pain. Since he was covered head and toe in a majestic cloak of writhing flames, Ebon, flying overhead, was the only one who could see him, and its ruby eyes widened in disbelief.  
  
/What are you?/ Ebon demanded. /The one the king said would come?/ It came closer, darts of fire spitting forth from its mouth. Sephiroth used the Masamune to sweep it away, green eyes meeting the horse's red orbs steadily. The nightmare bowed its head. /It is you/ it breathed in wonder.  
  
Sephiroth shook his head in amazement; word certainly got around fast in the realm of the Guardians. The horse descended, tucking its wings close at its sides. It tossed its head, and the flames vanished at its command. (Continue, and keep up the sham. This is still an exam/ the horse directed.  
  
Ignoring the audience's surprise at seeing him alive and unscathed, Sephiroth complied with Ebon's instructions. Ebon's red eyes flared in annoyance as the Masamune flashed by, coming so close it removed a few feathers from the nightmare's wings and forced the Guardian Force to retreat a few steps. /Can you not be so enthusiastic?/ it inquired almost plaintively, all trace of its earlier intimidating attitude gone. Obviously, Sephiroth surmised, Guardian Forces possessed personalities just like human beings and liked putting on a show just like any ordinary person he knew.  
  
"I'm doing what you asked me to," he replied quietly with a quick quirk of his lips, his voice unheard above the roar of the dwindling flames.  
  
If the horse could have pouted, it probably would have, the youth thought with a smile as Ebon ruffled its feathers almost indignantly. The horse lowered its fiery-maned head and charged, intent on goring Sephiroth with its horn. Sephiroth twisted away, angling his movements so that he now faced the nightmare at chest level. He stretched the six foot long blade out, and Ebon's blood-red eyes darkened with horror. Unable to rein in its momentum, the nightmare impaled itself on the Masamune. Black blood, with flecks of deep scarlet in it, gushed freely out of the wound, staining the blade and dulling its silvery luster. Ebon writhed on the four feet of steel that had skewered it, teeth snapping vainly as it strove to reach its foe. It shuddered at the terrible pain, then stilled, its movements stiff and jerky. Raising eyes glazed with agony, it whispered directly into Sephiroth's mind, /Fine. You win. Just remove this darned needle out of my chest/ It slumped on the sword that still kept it upright. /Don't you know the effect of cold steel on magical creatures? It hurts worse than the hell I was spawned from!/  
  
"If you say so." Sephiroth planted his foot none too gently on the winged horse's shattered chest and pulled. The Masamune slid out, grating horribly against Ebon's bones with a wet squelching sound. Ebon stiffened, its wings quivering visibly, then it relaxed. /Better/ it hissed in an unfriendly whisper, and Sephiroth noticed that the gory wound was beginning to knit together slowly. The horse stood straight, shaking its wings out, then bowed to Sephiroth. /A good battle, Chosen One. I am sure we will meet again in the future. You have earned my service/ With that, it shook itself once, vigorously, and its black body dispersed into cold black mist that stung Sephiroth's skin before vanishing into thin air.  
  
Freya took his shoulder, giving him a rare smile, and guided him from the platform. "How long did I take?" he asked her, elated at his success.  
  
Her eyes studied him speculatively, coolly. She was wondering, he knew, as everyone one else would be. "Eight minutes and fifty-two seconds," she said at last as they walked down the stairs. They joined the other cadets below, and the third candidate went up to face his battle. Sephiroth watched the last three cadets, two boys and a girl, his mind far away. He dimly noticed the Guardians participating in the battles: a nine-tentacled purple monstrosity called Gratius, a willow blond sprite dressed in green leaves named Spring (the unfortunate candidate was a male and had to suffer the problem of his screaming hormones as well as focusing on the actual battle itself) and lastly, a goat-legged female satyr called Satira which blew a mean flute. The last cadet, the faint-hearted girl who had nearly collapsed earlier, got the mutated octopus and, unable to take it, had fainted noiselessly and gracelessly, earning herself an instant fail, while the two boys did fairly well, managing to defeat their Guardians within the time limit.  
  
As a result, the girl was the only one to look depressed when they all emerged into the sunlight a while later. Colin was in high spirits, and skipped along humming a nursery rhyme ('Humpty Dumpy Sat On the Wall') , an idiotic grin on his face, and the other two boys (they were brothers) talked about their challenges loudly and very animatedly. Sephiroth, however, was thinking about what lay in store for him now that he had passed his practical examination. The Planet had promised him a chaotic adventure ahead, and what the Planet promised, it would deliver, of that he was most assuredly certain of.  
  
He had just hoped that the Planet would give him fair warning before he fell headfirst into it.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
(Back in the Astral Plane...the Guardians' home, you know)  
  
The chaotic matter in the plane twisted and warped briefly before becoming corporeal—a black horse with obsidian wings, blood dripping steadily from its chest. It limped as it 'walked', mentally sending out a call to the elder guardians.  
  
They arrived instantly, just as Ebon's last words faded away, for distance was of no consequence in the Astral Plane. They surrounded Ebon, their glinting eyes, red, blue, green, black, fixed intently on the wounded beast.  
  
/Who have you fought, Ebon, who damaged you so badly?/ Ifrit boomed with some surprise, gazing at Ebon's battered form. He stretched out a massive, clawed hand, and fire that would have boiled a human alive but merely served to rejuvenate the fire elemental surrounded the nightmare. The bleeding stopped, but the wounds themselves did not heal. They continued to heal slowly, shining with a pale, unholy blue.  
  
/What is this?/ Shiva demanded, her sapphire eyes glowing as she examined the horse's wounds more closely. Her eyes widened. /They are the marks of her sword/ she spat out venomously.  
  
The Guardians glanced at each other nervously. Among them, there was only one 'her' that was spoken of so vehemently, and they all knew of her return to the world she had nearly single-handedly destroyed millennia ago.  
  
Ebon grimaced. /Lucky me. I ran into her heir...the one Bahamut met and spoke to but a few days hence/  
  
/He carries that sword?/ Pandemonium asked in a breathy, gusty voice that echoed and blew around the infinite space of the Astral Plane. /Does he know what it is?/  
  
/I doubt it/ Siren replied in a musical, lilting voice that sounded like the song of the waves during high tide. /That sword is incredibly astute at hiding itself, as we all know. It was made for that...woman, after all/ For a moment, the Guardian's beautiful features contorted into a hateful snarl. Then she caught herself and went on. /We helped make it, as you recall. It was a powerful sword, a holy blade, that denied all evil and was a bane to the darkness. She enchanted it so only those with her blood could use it. Then, as she fell from grace, her blade too, grew corrupted as her soul, since it was bound so intimately with her. Somehow this blade has been passed on to this mortal from another world; we have all Seen with the Inner Eye the traces of her in him. We need not worry in any case. If this boy is who he claims he is, who our King himself has said he is, who the legends say he is, the sword will listen, and obey, no matter what its other motives could be/  
  
/You speak wisely, Siren/ Leviathan rumbled in its watery voice. The sea serpent stared at her with thoughtful aquamarine eyes. /But still I fear, with good reason. Send one of us to watch over him. Not just Diablos. You will forgive me, old friend/ he murmured, addressing the dark god of gravity /if I still have trouble trusting you after so many years of comradeship/  
  
Diablos just responded with a wild, cackling laugh that made his fellow Guardians wince. Shiva glared at him in disgust and bent her chill gaze upon the nightmare, who was listening carefully.  
  
/Bear my task, nightmare/ she intoned. /Be Sephiroth's Guardian, and watch him closely for her taint. Come to us to report when you spy evil intents within his mind/  
  
The nightmare bowed, his red eyes grim and proud. /Yes, Great Lady/ He cried out sharply once and disappeared from sight.  
  
/You do realize/ Diablos said darkly, /that you have not consulted with the King/  
  
Shiva frowned coldly. /Bahamut has other things to contend with at the moment/ she proclaimed sternly. /I merely do his work for him/  
  
/He might not be so grateful/ Diablos cautioned with a screeching laugh that set her nerves on edge. With another insane cry, the bat-winged demon vanished in a cloud of sulfur-smelling black smoke.  
  
/He always loved effects/ Shiva said. /Until nest time, my comrades/ Her body became transparent and then melted, and was gone. One by one, the other Guardians left, leaving one small blue snake that had hidden, unnoticed, and eavesdropped on the conversation. It had very old, and very wise golden eyes that were currently sorrowful.  
  
/You have lost your trust, Guardians/ Bahamut thought to himself. /To think, that we have come to these times/  
  
With a sigh, he, too departed on the wings of a wish spell.  
  
....................................................................................................  
  
Author's Ending Note: Underground stone arenas? What the hell is THAT? My ideas are leaking out one by one! Darn. Hope you don't think that was too weird. I would like to add that Ebon and Valiance had long been ideas of mine and I am glad to finally pull them off the dusty shelves of my mind and put them to use in this chapter. I plan to give Ebon a bigger role than I originally wanted to. Oh, and now you know the eternal secret—where the Masamune came from. Jenova had it made for herself in the days when she was still Adele. How Sephiroth got hold of it will be explained in later chapters. Gasp Wow, this chapter exceeds chapter three! (Chapter Thirteen, my lucky number, by the way, knocks Chapter Three down form first place and gazes loftily around) Well, hold your breaths in anticipation for the next chapter!  
  
Travithian Axile signing out  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Omega Paladin: Did you enjoy the new plot soup I've cooked up this time? Pleasantly thick and creamy, right? (or so I hope, hee hee)  
  
Nami the Time Traveler: Finished reading yet?  
  
Noacat: Of course they will. The subplot will make this story all the more longer, yay! Which means the time between now and when I say goodbye to my characters (because I am not doing a sequel due to how my ending is written) is prolonged! The longer the better. 


	15. 14: Memories of a Dragon

A Word From the Author: Here's it: READ.

Chapter Fourteen: Memories of a Dragon

Bahamut flew high in the skies, his long, scaly body undulating behind him gracefully, the argent light emanating from the stars silvering his dark cobalt scales. Flying had always been one of his greatest pleasures, but it was difficult to find joy now in the wild freedom of soaring, unfettered, high in the heavens forbidden to all but celestial creatures like him, when the threat of yet another war loomed over Gaia like a black thunderstorm about to break at any given moment.

The blue dragon took a moment to remember the long ago time when men and Guardian Forces had flown side by side in harmony. Bahamut heaved a sigh of acute sorrow and regret over those lost times. His memories were still sharp and clear, retaining their vibrancy and color even over the passage of the ages, and even now in his mind's eye he pictured the winged silhouettes of the sorceresses and their knights swooping past and beside him.

Then had come the terrible war that had stripped men of their power of flight and sorcery, including their immortality, left them chained to the ground, staring longingly into the clouds at what could never be theirs again. Many died from the pain of that loss or fell at the claws of the monsters roaming the land, unsure how to defend themselves without their magic, or from starvation. Hyne forbid his Guardians to come among them and give aid, and so they had watched from the sidelines, grieving, for the numerous friends and comrades laid out among the dead.

But men were a hardy race, and they pulled themselves back from the brink of total extinction by their very bootstraps. Spurred on by their shortened lives, they began to search for a new force to ensure their survival. At last they found it – technology. As their lives changed drastically by the discovery, they turned their back on their history, attempted to erase their past and look forward to a future that at last held hope. The past was a broken thing, stained with too much blood and tears. The Long Wars were stricken from the records, and the new generation of humans grew up unawares of their heritage. Over the centuries men forgot that their ancestors had once flown with the Guardian Forces and talked with Hyne. The last remnant, the only sign, that mankind had ever been more than it was now was the existence of the sorceresses, who possessed within them a mere fragment of what their ancestors had wielded, but regarded powerful and mysterious in this age, for Hyne had never intended that his First Children should one day forget magic – a tragedy that would be, indeed.

Always there existed two sorceresses, some benevolent, some cruel, who bent their powers towards whatever purposes they wished. Through the years humans had either sided or opposed them. Through a fluke, Rinoa Heartilly, participant in the Second Sorceress War had inherited dual powers from Adel and Edea, so now there was only one.

Bahamut heaved another gusty sigh that echoed through the emptiness about him. Far away, affected by his dark mood, a strong wind assailed the citizens of Coruthary, then a brief, stinging rain that soon halted. The dragon sensed her presence, a black blot upon the surface of his beloved world, a blight that spread disease and distrust whenever it passed. Once upon a time, in a world still populated with sorcerers and sorceresses, he had allowed her to ride upon his back, talked philosophy with her, enjoyed her wit and intelligent comments. Those were the days before the insanity infected her mind, clouding her judgment and twisting her originally well-meaning intentions. He had been proud to know her, honored to crush her enemies and further her cause. He had been among the Guardians who had helped Adele craft her holy blade, Masamune, and bind it to her soul, enhancing her already formidable spellcraft.

What had happened? He didn't know, except that Adele had changed abruptly in a short period of time. She grew obsessed with the notion of power, began to delve more deeply into experiments, prying into secrets best left alone. She went forth on bloody, senseless campaigns, supposedly in the name of Hyne, bringing down those she claimed were not devoted enough to the Church. She was ruthless, merciless, and as the death toll mounted, Bahamut began to doubt the woman he had once admired so much.

Sometimes he wondered if it had all been an act. Had Adele merely fooled them all before, using her charisma and beauty to win them over to her side, to lull them into thinking she was harmless before she struck from behind like a snake? Bahamut tended to think not, when he remembered what Adele had once been. Exquisite, compassionate, just and innocent. He half shut his golden eyes as more images sprang to vivid life in his mind, of Adele in a garden...

(Age of Magic, 109 BA—Before Apocalypse)

Bahamut lazily yawned and twisted his long neck about to gaze affectionately at the two humans nestled in the curve of his tail. One was a slender violet-haired beauty with eyes that matched the brilliant gold of the dragon's own orbs, while the other was a lanky black-haired male with amused gray-blue eyes. The temple gardens were in full bloom, and sweet fragrance of roses, chrysanthemums and lilies seemed to float on the musky summer air, adding to the three companions' lethargy.

"Thank you for attending my ascending ceremonies, Bahamut," Adele said in a sweet, lilting soprano, gently giving the dragon a pat on his blue armor. "I can't tell you how much it means to me." She smiled, the last rays of sunlight still illuminating the depths of her golden eyes.

"You have ever been a friend of the Guardians, Adele. It is only fair that we return the favor," Bahamut replied warmly, baring his teeth in a draconish smile. "So many of your kind treat us as only animals to be summoned and used at will. But you see us as intelligent creatures with feelings."

Adele leaned her head against the dragon's side, her hand caressing the massive scales. "Now that I am High Priestess, perhaps I could change the rules to benefit you more. Would you like that?" She sounded eager, hopeful, like a little girl despite her thousand years in the world.

"Thank you," Bahamut replied quietly.

Her knight stirred a little from beside her. "That's just you, Adele," he said with a smile that did much for his chiseled features. "Always thinking of others."

Adele laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, I like to think of myself as a good person." Her eyes turned mischievous. "Though, not always..." She leaned towards her knight and whispered something in his ear. Quinn sputtered and his ears turned red. She moved away and said with an air of studied innocence, "After the feast, let's go back and...celebrate...properly, shall we?"

Quinn just grinned sheepishly, the tips of his ears still flaring scarlet. With Adele's rise to High Priestess, as her knight, he was now among the elite Guard of Hyne, charged with the duty of protecting his sorceress.

Bahamut, who was able to, with his mind-reading ability, pick up some of Quinn's and Adele's surface thoughts, chuckled inwardly at the antics of his two friends. Sometimes he regarded them as his children, though they were over a thousand years old and officially adults. Bahamut, however, had lived far longer than that, being the second of the created Guardians, and compared to him the couple were still rather young.

"Bahamut," Adele said softly.

"Yes, Adele?" the dragon rumbled.

"There is still some time before I have to make my speech. I would like to fly. Would you join me? After I say the vows, I won't have an opportunity like this again because I will be too busy to fly for leisure. But for now...I would like to be a child once more before I have to grow up." Adele's expression was one of wistfulness as she gazed at the silver bracelet on her wrist that marked her as a priestess-in-training, soon to be replaced by the platinum armlet of service.

"Of course."

Adele closed her eyes and called upon her sorceress form. Her body was outlined in gold light, and white wings burst out of her back, the feathers pure and soft as swan down. Her feet hovered above the ground. Quinn emulated her, and silvery wings unfurled and bore him aloft beside her. His fingers thickened and curved into claws, a trait shared by most knights. Bahamut spread his own wings and rose, the wind from his beating wings causing the duo to stagger a little before they righted themselves and edge away from Bahamut.

They launched into the air, with Adele and Quinn flying above and slightly to the left. The faerie lights illumining the temple below shrunk to dots of burning colorful lights. Adele had flown many times before, but tonight she looked especially alive, her face lit up with something deep within that only made her seem lovelier.

She and Quinn embraced and sat on the dragon's back, smiling at each other, lost in their own fantasy. The dragon fanned his powerful wings, smiling to himself. For Adele he would have stayed in the same position all night and more. For he knew she would have done the same for him.

"I love you," Quinn told Adele, his heart in his eyes. It was not the first time he had said that phrase, but he never tired of speaking it, for each repetition brought renewed joy to Adele's eyes.

"I love you too," she answered, solemnly. Her hand found Quinn's, and he squeezed it very tightly.

"I want you to have something," he said a little breathlessly. "A token of...of what I feel for you." He fumbled at his throat with his free hand, and the heavy platinum pendant that he wore around his neck at all times came loose. It was a family heirloom, very old and valuable. It was cast in the shape of a lion's head, fangs bared in a ferocious, frozen roar. Quinn had once told her, at her query, that it was in the form of Griever, the First Guardian, King of the Second of Hyne's creations. He put it in Adele's hand and closed her fingers over it.

"I want you to have it," he whispered.

"I can't, Quinn!" Adele exclaimed in horror, gazing at the necklace cradled in her palm. "It's been your family for ages, it belongs to you. Your parents wouldn't be pleased you just gave it away like that."

The sorcerer kissed her knuckles lightly, and Adele blushed. Quinn smiled at her, the moonlight turning his eyes a dark, steel blue. "True, it's a heirloom," he said. "So when our eldest son comes of age, you can give it to him."

This time Adele really blushed, turning a rose pink in color. "That's really sweet of you, Quinn.," she said, her words coming out in a rush.

Quinn positively beamed. "So you're accepting my proposal?"

"Of course, silly." Adele said easily. "What made you think I wouldn't? You're my best knight."

"I'll help you put it on," Quinn offered, his nimble fingers gliding across Adele's neck, causing her to shiver with delicious delight. He stroked Adele's long, straight violet hair as he fastened the clasp, his breath warm on her skin. "My heart will forever be with you," he said sincerely.

"I know." Adele tilted her head upwards, her amber eyes staring deep into Quinn's. She suddenly smiled wickedly. "Come here, you. Don't keep a girl waiting."

Bahamut heard nothing but silence for a few minutes after that. Then Adele and Quinn flew down from his back, both grinning in a very dazed, foolish fashion, as though they had drank several bottles of champagne straight in a row without pausing.

"Had fun?" the blue dragon said cheerfully.

They simultaneously made rude signs in his direction and began to descend. Laughing, Bahamut followed them back to the ground, where Adele hastily grabbed her script and headed towards the dais where the new priestesses were being sworn into the order. Bahamut stopped Quinn as he was about to hurry after her.

"That's one amazing woman you've got, lad. Don't let her get away."

Quinn chuckled. "I certainly won't! See you later, Bahamut, after the ceremony."

At that time, he, like everyone else, had expected a perfect fairy tale ending for Adele and Quinn. Even a blind man could see the great and tender love they had for each other.

But it had not worked out. Of all the persons who suffered in the Apocalypse, Quinn had the worst of it. So many years later, Bahamut still remembered the gentle breeze during that night, the night of Adele's initiation. The only difference that Adele's twinkling laugh had become dagger blades, slicing at his flesh. Every time he had fought Adele, Bahamut saw the sorceress he had revered so much, in Adele's cold and unfeeling face. It must have been painful for Quinn, who had loved her and housed so many expectations, gone unfulfilled.

Quinn's anguish still tore at his heart. "I loved her. Why couldn't I have saved her from that monster with her face? I, alone, knew her best. I should have known something was wrong. Instead of leaving her to deal with the growing darkness in her soul on her own, I should have tried to help her see the light," the sorcerer had said, once, weeping in his guilt and sorrow.

Bahamut had experienced nothing but relief and sorrow when he heard that Adele was dead and vanquished. With her death came the end of the Long Wars and the Age of Magic. The world had repaired itself, was at peace once more.

But now she was here again.

How? Bahamut continually asked himself. He dreaded fighting her again; he had long lain her to rest in his heart. He had grieved for Adele, but rejoiced in the fact that her passing, had, in a way set her tortured soul free. He was dismayed at the fact that he had thought wrong for such a long period of time, that he had only been believing in a lie.

Did Hyne know about her continued survival? He wondered, wishing that Hyne was still present to guide him. But Hyne was gone to tend to another of his creations, and he, Bahamut, was alone, and he had to act in the way he thought best, unguided.

And now, with the absence of Hyne, their only hopes rested on the shoulders of a young man from another world, supposedly, somehow, the scion of Adele, bearing her sword and her power. Adele had grown frighteningly in strength over the years while the Guardian Forces had relaxed, grown complacent after twenty years of peace. Odin, too, would do his best to stop her, but, knowing how potent Adele's magic was, Bahamut knew that he would prove no match for her.

So far, Bahamut had vouched for the young man—Sephiroth, his name was. His Guardians were aware of the source of his hope, and though they were skeptical and thought him foolish, he was after all still their king, and they obeyed and respected his wishes.

Ten generations ago, a sorceress gifted with the power of Seeing was born, and she could often make minor, though sometimes useful, predictions about the future. If there was a flood, or a famine coming, she would make the appropriate warnings, and a disaster was averted, and thus she was much welcome among the local folk.

She, too, was well known among the Guardians, being singularly powerful in that age. She fought beside them many times, and was an able and valued comrade. And so it came to be that Bahamut loved her well enough to stand vigil at her bedside in human form while she lay dying of a mortal wound sustained during battle. Whether it was because the glimpse into the dark realm of death gave her a spurt of power in her Sight, or because it was fate or Hyne that spoke through her mouth in that moment her soul fled, leaving her body a hollow shell, Bahamut wasn't sure, but one thing he knew for certain: this prophecy was integral to the future of Gaia. To his dying day, he would never forget the harsh, whispered words she hissed at him that day in the small, shadowed room that smelled of death and sickness:

"...I see death and suffering, broken by periods of peace, a mockery of the carnage that is to come. Look to the skies, for it is from there that danger shall descend. The day will come in the future when a sorcerer will save Gaia from the Scourge with the key to the wellspring of energy deep within Gaia for there will be no one else to stop the tragedy as Hyne shall be gone. When he calls, all of Heaven shall hear him, and Hyne himself will come in answer..."

She paused, then, and said softly, a dazed expression on her face, as it always was after she had a vision, "Deliver me, Lord Hyne..."

With that, she died, with the name of her sovereign lingering on her lips.

Bahamut had never quite understood, mainly because no living sorcerer still existed upon Gaia. But now he had the answer to his own doubts and questions. Sephiroth, though alien, with Adele's sorceress abilities, could technically be called a sorcerer. He knew he was putting all his hopes into a prophecy made years before which might not even refer to the current event, but he was desperate and more than that, he believed in Sephiroth. The man bore no resemblance to Adele, but there was something of her haunted look in his eyes, of madness narrowly escaped, and the shadows of regret, a luxury no cold-blooded killer could afford. Yes, Bahamut trusted him, though he was sorry to learn that his supposedly loyal subjects weren't quite as trusting as him.

With a thought, the diamond-studded sky vanished, to be replaced by the ever-shifting chaos of the Astral Plane. Bahamut willed the chaos into a mirror, tucking his claws beneath him, he gazed into it. At first he saw only his reflection, then the surface rippled and sparkled at his unspoken command. It clouded, then the mists parted to reveal the angular face of the silver-haired youth that had arrived in Gaia under such mysterious circumstances.

For a moment the strange catlike eyes darted around and the youth's lips bowed in a frown. Bahamut held his breath as Sephiroth looked over his shoulder, as though able to sense the intrusion. Not unusual, for one of his power. Adele herself had been able to sense when she was being scried upon. Then he seemed to shrug and spoke to an unseen audience. "Yes, m'am. I understand perfectly well."

Even if no one else agreed with him, Bahamut would support Sephiroth all the way to the end, for he was firm in his conviction that Sephiroth was the key to defeating Adele, the champion who was to rescue Gaia from an uncertain fate should it ever fall into Adele's unkind hands.

The blue dragon settled down to watch.

Author's Ending Note: I hope none of you feel that Adele is being too nice to have just suddenly turned three hundred sixty degrees just like that. (snap fingers) I wrote this account to put a bigger contrast between Jenova and Adele. You know, to fulfill the 'even bad guys were once innocent babies' thing that is an unchangeable law of fandom. Also, I put in a tremendously huge clue here that I'm certain none of you will miss. (Hint, hint: It starts with a G.) Plus, I really apologize for not being able to update for such a horrendously long time, because my father changed the password on the computer (again) so I was unable to access the Internet to post this chapter. Not to mention the darned Internet kept crashing because my modem went haywire. There will be similar delays on other updates, regretfully. But for now, please enjoy my latest update.

Next chapter: The briefing, the SeeD graduation ball, and how Sephiroth discovers he prefers fighting a million dragons to dancing with a girl...( grins. How I love to torture you guys with the long wait...well, anyone would die to see Seph dancing)

Thanks to:

Noacat: Thanks! As for the comments on the Guardians, it only serves to deepen the plot. And make the story longer. Of course, the GFs will soon realize that they are in error and they WILL have to trust him after all!

tetraflash777: Why is it every time I bemoan the lousy quality of my writing someone always argues back? (wonders) Not that I'm complaining, mind you. In fact...pour on the arguments already!

Dark Feruil: Of course, there's no way I'll let Jeremy go unscathed after what he did to Laguna. (Okay, so I MADE him do that to Laguna, but that's beside the point.) IN fact, looking back on my story, I realize that I've inadvertently created loads of insanity and reformed ex-psychopaths. Is that a weird kind of reflex action or something? Maybe my love of psychos just says something about my own mad character...

Omega Paladin: Yeah, maybe, except somehow I can't picture the Garden flying all the way back to Balamb every time they want to conduct a practical examination if they happened to be situated somewhere else out of necessity. Maybe I should have put the location on the actual airship itself. (ponders new ideas)


	16. 15: First Mission

A Word From the Author: Guess you guys are wondering where I was for the last month. No, I haven't been abducted by aliens, but I've been tortured by something just as bad...the FINAL YEAR EXAMS! THE ULTIMATE WEAPON TEACHERS USE TO MAKE US SUFFER! (Calms down) Anyway, this fic is NOT dead. I repeat, it is still healthy and thriving, though with a bit of growth impediment. And I had exams, which is a perfectly good reason to make me (gasp) abandon my story writing for more intellectual pursuits, so don't come running after me with pitchforks and torches. Cookies to everyone who reviewed during my absence. And now, without further ado, let the story begin!!!

Chapter Fifteen: First Mission

(Note: This chapter takes place the morning after the practical exam.)

Sephiroth arrived at the hallway bright and early ten minutes before the appointed time in his blue and silver SeeD uniform which had arrived yesterday after his test. His silver hair was bound back with a leather thong, hanging thick and shiny down the middle of his back, having adamantly refused pressure to shear it off (Keire's, namely.) A few students straggled in in ones or twos, yawning mightily, except Daniel, who bounded in in his usual exuberant way. To his (privately) extreme relief, the blond merely waved at him with a disgusting cheeriness that should NOT have been present at such an hour before sauntering off to chat with a sleepy looking cadet slumped against a battle, clearly fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. As Daniel started to talk, gesturing wildly, his head slipped sideways and a snore escaped his mouth. Paine and a few girlfriends arrived at the scene some seconds later, talking animatedly. The assembled cadets—fifteen in all—all bore varying expressions. Some were nervous, some pale to the point of lying down in their deathbeds, some expressionless, some confident, others determined. The anxious chatter, words of bravado and shrill giggles fell away to a hush as the instructors entered in an orderly row. The cadets saluted as the Headmistress emerged from the line of instructors and stood in front of them, clearly about to make a pre-battle speech.

"Cadets," she said solemnly, "For many of you, this will be your first real battle. Remember your training and do not panic. Uphold the values of SeeD—honor, courage, chivalry—for there will be other eyes watching, not all of them friendly, who will evaluate our performance." She took a deep breath. "So, good luck. Out of the thirty-five of you, ten will become SeeDs based on your score. The instructors will be acting as backup in the case of emergencies." She looked around sternly at the silent, watchful faces of her students. "Kill or be killed. Do not hesitate to do your duty. Guard your comrades with your lives. Once again, cadets, I wish you all the best." She turned around and left, and Elenor Rynee took her place.

"The instructors will now sort you, cadets, into squads of three. You will be briefed on the mission in further detail on board the ships later." Instantly the instructors started moving, consulting clipboards and calling out names. Keire Wulcan approached Sephiroth, one hand mussing up his already messy hair. He wore a broad, evil grin. "Hey, man. You're the leader of Squad B, congratulations. You get to give the orders to...guess who?"

The silver-haired youth shrugged. A sudden foreboding hit him and he looked more carefully at Keire's suspiciously gleeful expression. "Does his name begin with a D..." he began, voicing his worst fears. One looking at the sight of Keire's grin growing even bigger was more than what Sephiroth needed as confirmation. He threw his hands up and fumed. "Who assigned us anyway?"

"You don't need to know," Keire said happily. "Come on, let's go meet up with your teammates. Me and Elenor, we've been given the job of looking after your scrawny hides."

To his relief, Sephiroth found that his other partner-in-war would be Paine Falkern, the girl from his class. At least he wouldn't be the only sane person in his group. He muttered dark curses on the head of whoever had done this to him and went over to meet Paine and Daniel. Aside from her uniform, Paine wore a black sash around her waist and an infectious smile, clearly thrilled by the prospect of finally going to fight, though her lips trembled a little too much for her confidence to be wholly convincing. Daniel was bouncing on the balls of his feet, apparently trying to work off his nervous energy. Black and red leather gloves studded with wickedly barbed spikes already adorned his hands. Elenor stood beside them, and nodded curtly to Sephiroth and Keire.

"Yo, fearless leader!" Daniel said excitedly, absently reaching up to ruffle his hair before he remembered that he was wearing his fighting gloves and lowered his hand. "Let's get going, shall we?" Sephiroth nodded, and the five of them sprinted towards the garage to retrieve the car. Elenor got into the driver's seat before Keire could worm his way inside, causing the dark-haired man to pout childishly before sitting with the other students. Sephiroth sat on the right-hand side, contemplating the ceiling, one gloved hand caressing the glowing green stone on his bracelet. He had not much time to speak with the Planet lately, due to his exams, but now he let himself sink into the darkness and solitude of his own mind in communion with the Planet.

( So, my friend, what is in store for me? ) he asked silently. (You were so insistent that I take THIS particular assignment.)

— You will find out...in time — the Planet responded matter-of-factly. –One thing I shall warn you about. Sometimes, in order to do the right thing, you must do the wrong thing — The sentience's mental voice was tinged blue with melancholy. – Remember that when the time comes, Sephiroth. I can say no more, lest I destroy the plan Fate has in store for you with my words, no matter how well-intentioned —

Sephiroth bowed his head. ( So be it. )

Breaking out of his trancelike state, he jerked upright and for the first time heard the martial artist rambling on while Paine glared daggers at him, her fingers locked together so that they would not fidget. The girl shot him an eye roll and leaned close to whisper confidentially, "Oh, Hyne, forgive me if I happen to cut his tongue off 'accidentally.'" Sephiroth flashed a quick smile as Paine leaned back, looking a little more relaxed. Daniel fell into a surprising silence as Elenor parked the car at Balamb Harbor, clenching and unclenching his gloved hands. Obviously all his bluster was for the sole purpose of concealing his fear. Paine was openly fidgeting, almost unconsciously, though her face was blank and carefully aloof. The atmosphere reminded Sephiroth of Wutai; his men, too, had looked like that, fearful of dying prematurely, yet grimly determined to fight to the end. Squad A was already boarding the ship, and as the doors closed, it pulled away.

"Hurry!" Elenor snapped, as she unfolded her long legs and climbed out of the door. The five of them hastened towards a second ship. The three cadets made themselves comfortable—as much as they could — on the hard metal benches at either side of the room. Elenor stood at the front next to a miniature screen set in the wall, waiting until she had everyone's attention. There was a jolt as the ship's engines powered up with a soft roar and zoomed away from the pier.

"Attention, Squad B." The cadets focused on her, eyes alert and ears cocked. "Okay, cadets, this is it," Rynee said in her soft, yet compelling voice. She raised her hand and pressed a button on the small, flat console in her palm. The black screen she was aiming at came to life in a sputter of static before the fuzz cleared to show a coastline rendered in green lines. Sephiroth stared hard at it. Something about it looked familiar, and he tried to make a match.

"Coruthary," both he and Rynee stated at the same time.

"Very good, cadet," Rynee said with a brief nod of approval. "You all know Coruthary's history, do you not? The Galbadians have wanted their land badly, trifling though it is, ever since Coruthary was declared an independent state. On the last week, Monday, they have finally made their move." Rynee jabbed at another button and they were looking at Coruthary. Numerous red dots surrounded the city, indicating the enemy. "The city is under siege," Rynee proceeded, "and threats have been made to the Prime Minister to surrender Coruthary to President Deling. Naturally he refused, and though the Galbadians have not struck out yet, the situation is getting uglier."

Another jab. A colored picture expanded, taking up half of the screen. It was a mass of complicated looking machinery, wires, and protruding gadgets. When no enlightenment appeared in the eyes of the three puzzled cadets, Rynee cleared her throat and said, "So far, it has been named unofficially, 'the Sting'. Reliable sources have informed as that there has been a lot of correspondence passing between the President and Tycho Assanio, Head of Weaponry, lately. Certain blueprints were swiped from Assanio's laboratory, and our experts have managed to piece the information together to get a crude image of Assanio's secret project. It's a little complicated to explain, but its effects would make even the Lunar Cry pale by comparison. Basically, though it is a mechanical mind, it seems somewhat...alive." Rynee herself bore a confused look at her own curious appellation.

"It wants sustenance, and it does so by finding and sucking up all the magic of any creature up to a one-mile radius—though this could be adjusted—to protect Deling City in case it overloads and explodes. It can then compress and process the creatures' magic, like refining crude oil. The Sting is able to convert the magic to its true, natural form—raw energy, the power of the sun, whatever. The important thing to note is that no wall, no barrier can stand against it. Once it fires..." Rynee wore a sardonic smile. "Bang! Game over."

"That was cheerful to know, Elenor," Keire Wulcan called, a twinkle of merriment in his eye.

"I am taking this very seriously, Keire," Rynee declared in a frosty tone. "and I expect the cadets, including you, to do the same." The male instructor just grinned and sat back, saying nothing,

"Right, now that the nuisance has been dealt with...cadets are expected to keep an eye out for any sign of the Sting. The Galbadians are hidden from satellite by a cloaking device that causes interference, so we are unable to see if they do in actuality have the device with them."

Paine raised her hand. "How big is it, instructor?"

"The brain of the machine is believed to be located deep underground in a research facility beneath Deling City. Galbadian soldiers may carry a smaller device, about four hand-spans long, that siphons power from the mother apparatus. Keep your ears open for any information we can use to sabotage the Sting."

"Moving on..."

"Now...the attack on the Galbadians. We shall be making a two-pronged attack, overland and from the air. We are being tailed by a flight of Mirrormists, which have been equipped with silencers to disguise the sound of their flight, and hidden by illusion. To any without the proper password and equipment, the Mirrormists will just look like a patch of blue sky." (A/N: Remember how Esthar looked just like empty sky above the Great Salt Lake?) Following the Second Sorceress War, Esthar had gladly opened its doors to the world after so many years of suspicion and enmity, dispelling the illusion that enclosed it from the rest of the world. High-technology machines, particularly those of war, flooded the market practically overnight, putting even the Ragnoraks to shame. Balamb Garden now had a whole flight of Ragnoraks, Mirrormists (somewhat similar in looks to the Ragnorak, but painted black and with a more narrow profile, designed for stealth), Swallows (for maximum speed and maneuverability), Cataclysms (for maximum firepower), and Blacknets (supersonic jets).

"You, Squad B, will approach under cover of darkness." Rynee fixed her eyes on them, her lips pulled tight. "The three of you were specially chosen by Headmistress Xu under high recommendation, and I need not stress what an honor it is. Although you will not be directly involved in the skirmish, you will still face tremendous peril, perhaps more so. Your mission," she took a deep breath, "is to free a hostage."

"Why?" Paine furrowed her brow. "This person must be very important, whoever he is."

"It is not a he, but a she. You have heard of Avine Swifter, the sorceress. That is who you are charged to rescue safely."

The response was immediate. Paine's mouth fell open, and she just stared, totally dumbfounded for once. Sephiroth unfolded his arms and raised an eyebrow. So that was why the Planet wanted him in on this mission...he felt only a slight twinge of surprise. Daniel blanched, uncharacteristically quiet and pale. "Wasn't she...I thought she was at Mrs. Kramer's house learning magic?" he asked in a low, strained voice.

Rynee glanced at him, frowning. "And how did you come to possess this information, Roheiz?" she asked coolly.

Daniel went pink. "You know...about Avine and I, we're a couple, so she just...uh...told me the day before she left." He finished very quietly and gazed at his hands, looking genuinely grieved and shocked. For the first time, Sephiroth felt sympathy towards Daniel, who evidently had a very kind and passionate nature, if a little too talkative.

"I see," Rynee said, and her voice was still very cold. "Did you tell anyone else about Avine's whereabouts, Roheiz?"

"No!" Daniel shouted defiantly, glaring at the instructor. "She made me promise not to tell, she told me about how the Galbadians might be trying to find her and use her. I wouldn't have put my girlfriend in such danger so idiotically!"

"Calm down, Roheiz. No one is trying to accuse you of anything." Rynee sighed. She looked suddenly very weary. "It's just that...we've been looking for clues for so long..." She rubbed her neck and then her mask was firmly back in place.

"When did it happen?" Daniel asked desperately, his eyes filled with sadness.

"Two days after she arrived. Almasy was guarding her that day. He was knocked out and she was stolen away by Galbadians. On Almasy's information, we have found that it was indeed Galbadians who took her." Rynee looked closely at Daniel and managed a sympathetic smile. "If all works well, Roheiz, you will be seeing Avine again soon."

Daniel's eyes lit up and he smiled in relief. Rynee continued, "Avine has been seen in the Galbadian camp near Coruthary, presumably under some kind of mind-lock that makes her pliable to the Galbadian's control. Yes, Paine?"

The black-haired girl had thrust her hand up into the air again. She blurted out, "What's Avine doing in Coruthary? The place's a war zone, the Galbadians will find it harder to keep track of her if a battle suddenly breaks out, and they KNOW we're coming to save Avine! Why not keep her in Deling City where she'll be more secure?"

"Excellent, Paine, my thoughts exactly." Rynee smiled. "The Galbadians never do anything without cause...at least, anything that makes out job easier. This is the captain's theory, though it may not be true. Leonheart believes that the Galbadians may try to make use of Avine's formidable abilities as a sorceress in some way. Hence the mind-lock."

Daniel was beside himself with fury. "If the effing bastards dare touch one hair on Avine's head..." he roared, half rising from his seat.

"Come to order, Roheiz!" Rynee snarled, irritated this time. As Daniel shut up, sullenly, she turned to Sephiroth. "Leader, you better pay attention to this. We will be going into hiding on Long Island until night falls. Due to our special operation, Squad B will land first. We will escape with Avine in the confusion of the battle. Once we have infiltrated the camp, the three of you will split up to search for Avine. In the event that you are captured, the mission will not fail if you do not blab. The three of you have placed your trust in each other. If you betray that trust, you betray SeeD. I need not mention that, if you know your own limitations, that you unable to stand up to torture, or if you see a comrade being captured..." Rynee's voice dwindled away a moment. "Well, you know what to do."

The three looked at each other uneasily, having understood very well, too well. The Galbadians, particularly Edigier Deling, were not adverse to using torture to get what they wanted, and some of those methods were breathtakingly cruel. Therefore, to spare friends pain and humiliation, and to salvage the mission so as to preserve the safety of the Garden, SeeDs had made it a tradition, albeit a tragic and reluctant one, to kill their own, humanely and with mercy if they got caught.

"Of course, I hope that it will not come to that," Rynee said. "Wulcan and I will act as support. We will be on standby outside the encampment..."

"Ready to rush in and bail out your skinny asses in case things get too rough," Keire interrupted. "All you need to do is to yell the word, "Omega!" and one of us will be on his or her way. If we see enemy reinforcements arriving, we will call, "RUN!" and you had better do just that or become Galbadian mincemeat. Remember...the order for retreat takes priority, so don't try to be noble and continue searching if you are unsuccessful by then." He flashed a smile at Rynee. "That what you wanted to say, Elenor?"

"You may not know Avine by sight," the yellow-eyed instructor said monotonously, ignoring Keire, her eyes lingering on Daniel. "Therefore..." She aimed the remote again and twisted a knob. Instantly, a picture of Avine Swifter blossomed to life on the screen. The girl was in her late teens, a few years younger than Daniel. Her hair was raven black, kept long, gathered in three braids which were draped over her shoulder. Her expression was earnest, naïve, and guileless, accentuated by a child's sweet, innocent smile. Bright, inquisitive blue eyes the color of the summer sky regarded them, filled with a beautiful, inner light. Freckles dusted the surface of her smooth, flawless skin. Her chin was propped up on one slender hand, head cocked sideways, as she gazed into the camera.

Daniel started to shake, then doubled over and covered his face in his hands. Paine, who had professed her dislike of him on so many occasions, was instantly on her feet. Patting his back awkwardly, she spoke reassuring words. Rynee sighed again, very heavily, looking pained. "Roheiz, this is a mission. Pull yourself together, for Hyne's sake. I'm sorry to seem unfeeling, but I have to say this: SeeDs must never allow their emotions to come between them and their duties."

At that, Daniel looked up. His face was pale, set, and resolute. His eyes glittered strangely in the artificial light of the cabin. "They won't, instructor. For what those Galbadians have done I'll hit them so hard they won't know what's got them. My girlfriend's life hangs in the balance. No, ma'am. My emotions won't get in the way, they'll only spur me on."

Sephiroth looked at Daniel with new respect. Never before had Daniel seemed so serious. For once, he looked...responsible. And grown up. Daniel, indeed, had more depth than he had ever dreamed. Chastened, he reminded himself that even if other people didn't have the intellect or calm Sephiroth himself had, he still had something to learn from them.

"Well said, Daniel," Keire said gently. "Hang in there, man." Even Rynee smiled a little, then said, "Got everything I said, Leader? Need I repeat myself again?"

Sephiroth started to answer, then froze as he felt someone else's eyes resting on him. It was an odd, unreal feeling that made the little hairs on the back of his neck shiver uncomfortably and stand up. He rubbed his neck with a nervous gesture and out of instinct, glanced quickly behind him. All he saw was the gray, hard metal of the ship's wall.

( What the hell? )

"Sephiroth! Are you even listening to me?" Rynee demanded.

The weird sensation vanished abruptly as his concentration shattered. The part of his mind that had been paying attention, detached from the rest of his brain that had been occupied with investigating the source of the 'feeling', told him what the instructor's question had been, Absently massaging his neck again, he turned to Rynee and said evenly, "Yes, ma'am. I understand perfectly well."

The ship sailed on into the horizon.

.....................................................................................................................

(Evening, Long Island...)

Later, when the sky was a glorious hue of bruised pinks and blues, Sephiroth walked along the sandy beach of Long Island, where the seven SeeD ships were docked. They had landed ten minutes ago and the cadets, glad to be out of the cramped confines of the ships, sat in a huddle in the middle of the island, talking and laughing in hushed voices. The silver-haired youth moved to a discreet spot beside a ship where hopefully he would not be disturbed and sat down. He touched the Armlet of the Cetra, and it began to glow with a soft, vibrant light.

— So now you know — the Planet said.

( I think...I KNOW Mother, that is, Jenova is behind this. It's just like her. Will she be there?) His thoughts were as a whisper, brushing lightly, feather-soft, against the Planet's sentience, lost and forlorn. And in that statement, the Planet read more than Sephiroth would have liked it to.

— You still love her — the Planet stated simply, the four words tearing into Sephiroth's heart like newly forged daggers.

(Is that a crime?) he asked sadly, a little defensive. He tilted his head up, the stars reflected in the mirrorlike surface of his eyes. (She gave me what I wanted. I don't know if I can kill her, even if...even if she was only using me, and it was all false.)

—Don't hate her. Hatred only leads to more bitterness, in the end. Look at you, Sephiroth. You can be merciful even towards the one who has so wronged you. That is no crime. In fact...against all protests from the Cetra, my children, I did not execute you, as so many would have wished. Yet, it is past time for Adele to die. Think of her death not so much as condemnation as liberation. Immortality is not always a blessing, and the weight of years grows heavy upon the ones who are not meant to live beyond their due. Forgive her, Sephiroth, even as you slay her—

(Thank you) Sephiroth whispered. (Once again.)

—You're welcome— the Planet answered, its loving response caressing his mind as the Planet's presence slipped away. The welcoming light of the Lifestream dulled as Daniel skidded to a halt next to him, panting.

"Why the heck did you have to hole away here?! I ran around the whole island a gazillion times before I finally found you. Instructor Rynee says it's time to go!" he said anxiously.

"I apologize." Sephiroth climbed to his feet, stretching his arms. He followed a frantic Daniel into the SeeD ship. Rynee scowled at him. "You're late." She turned away, indicating the conversation was at an end, and Sephiroth had the feeling that his potential SeeD rank had gone down quite a few notches.

"Ready?" the SeeD commandeering the ship asked, peering through the open doors. "Everyone aboard?"

"Get her going, James," Rynee said flatly.

"Right." He backed out and shut the entrance, sealing them in darkness for a few moments before the automatic lights winked on.

"Here we go, folks," Keire said brightly as the ship sped away.

.....................................................................................................................

They disembarked on the coastline. Coruthary was a black silhouette ahead of them, illuminated by only three or four lights. The Galbadian army, the pride of Deling City, sprawled all about the Great Plains of Coruthairn, their campfires bobbing like numerous orange fireflies in the half darkness. Rynee put a finger to her lips, signaling silence. The gesture was unnecessary—the cadets were already hunkered down behind some handy rocks, staring wide-eyed at the sheer size and might of the Galbadian army.

"We're going to fight THAT?" Paine mouthed at Sephiroth, looking alarmed.

Rynee beckoned with her fingers and they crept forward quietly. Beside her, Keire was in the midst of casting a spell, mumbling beneath his breath and wiggling his fingers. She held up three fingers. She put one down, then another, ("Close your eyes," she hissed urgently) then all three—

A keening sound filled Sephiroth's ears and a sudden blast of wind blasted sand and grit into his face. Luckily his eyes were already tightly shut so his eyeballs were safe from the onslaught. Muffled curses, half drowned out by the howling winds, which Sephiroth was already beginning to suspect was no ordinary current of air, sounded from the direction of the attacked camp.

"GO!" Rynee shouted, her voice all but unheard in the wind, but they got the message and ran, eyes screwed tight against the rushing gale that whipped against their cheeks on its way to the Galbadian camp. Keire was still casting, his voice hoarse as he screamed into the night. Sephiroth was aware of a huge purple something with buglike, protruding yellow eyes hovering above them. A Guardian Force, probably summoned by Keire.

The camp was in chaos, with voices shouting orders meant for ears deafened by the gust. Soldiers who had been sleeping ran blindly about, tears streaming from reddened eyes. Those with visors on and thus somewhat protected from the fury of the wind were blinking, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness as the wind had blown out the fires. Pandemonium swooped down, balancing easily on his oversized tail. He winked at Keire with an air of companionship and spoke to them in his breathy voice.

/Here, take my protection. Until it wears off, my winds will hold no terrors for you./ He whispered a few words of sorcery and passed an appendage over them, paused, and winked at Sephiroth too before launching into the sky again to wreck havoc among the Galbadians.

"Thanks!" Rynee called after the vanishing Guardian. Sure enough, they were able to see clearly now, their sight and hearing unimpeded by the shrieking wind. Rynee and Keire posted themselves outside the camp, dispatching the panicked Galbadians that ran their way with ease. Paine looked sickened as Rynee's slender blade flashed, followed by a spray of blood, then tightened her jaw and looked away.

"Failure is not an option," the instructor shouted after them as they headed into the camp.

"Thanks for your reassurance," Daniel muttered. He glanced at Sephiroth. "Which way do we go, fearless leader?"

"Daniel, inspect the region to the left, Paine, you check out that clump of tents over there, there're loads of Galbadian soldiers, they might be hiding something...me, I'll head straight and maybe I'll find her. If you can't get anything, move on and proceed. If you find Swifter, call, "For Deling!" and we'll know. Got that? Now go before someone brings the Guardian down!"

The other two cadets saluted and ran off to carry out their orders. Sephiroth sprinted into the heart of the camp, which was mostly deserted aside from soldiers who lay tangled in the fabric of their tents or other Galbadians who rushed past, unseeing. Sephiroth killed them; he wasn't bothered by their deaths, but not triumphant either. He wondered what these soldiers thought of Balambians. Monsters? Traitors? Most of these men were fighting out of misguided loyalty towards their country, just as he was fighting out of loyalty for Garden. He felt sorry even as he decapitated a man ruthlessly. They were on the same side. If only someone would see that, all these meaningless wars would end.

But still, this was war, and he could not afford to be merciful.

Sephiroth grew uneasy. The silence, in the middle of a dogfight, was unnerving. He flinched despite himself as a great boom sounded from somewhere outside the city. Sounded like the Galbadians and the SeeDs of Balamb Garden were finally engaged in full out battle. But other than the occasional bang (and even those sounded muffled and distant) all was quiet. He was alone, and the silence grew oppressive as he proceeded further.

(Something's wrong.)

What was? He sensed nothing, heard nothing. Yet he felt a sense of a terrible wrongness, and he had to fight the urge to clutch his head and run crying into the night away from the unreasonable horror until he fell from exhaustion.

Screams. Pain. Fear. A deep, deep, sorrow so profound that if he could have shed tears, he would have. They burned in his chest. He forced them down.

(Something happened here. Something bad. )

Someone was sobbing, then laughing, then crying again. The sound permeated his head, his senses, seeming to throb in time with his fast beating heart. He couldn't tell whether the sounds he heard were reality or just existed within him, an echo of what had transpired in this place.

Shuffle.

The scrape, the sound of a sandal against dusty ground, was loud in the unnatural stillness. He nearly jumped as the soft swish grated painfully against his overwrought nerves. He spun around, his heart in his throat, and saw her.

How he could he have missed seeing her before, he did not know. Maybe it was the way she stood, ramrod straight, unmoving, that would have made the most astute observer mistake her for a lamppost. Her dirt- streaked smock perfectly blended against the tent she was standing next to. Sephiroth cautiously approached her. Something about her stiff stance nagged at his brain, faint recognition setting off alarms in his mind.

( Look into her eyes. What do you see there? )

He bent down a little, since he was much taller, and stared into her wide, blank eyes.

Somewhere he remembered learning that the eyes were the windows to the soul. It was possible to hide your expression. Not so with the eyes. They betrayed a person's innermost secrets like nothing else could, even when one tried to hide them. They could show warmth, hate, love, anger, grief, passion, dislike, all the emotions ever given a name to and some nameless.

Not Avine's.

Her eyes were empty, devoid of life. It stirred a certain sadness in him and as he gazed into the open windows of her eyes and saw nothing inside.

(No one deserves that, not EVER.)

Do you not see yourself? – the Planet whispered softly into his ear.

(Yes, I do ) he replied, his heart aching. His vision swam, and when he looked at Avine again, he saw, too, a man, striding among the dead in a certain burning town, and though the expression on his face was cruel and arrogant, his eyes were pitifully vacant and hollow.

He saw himself.

"Damn it, Mother," he screamed into the uncaring sky, not even knowing what he was saying, "Isn't what you have already done bad enough? Did you have to come here and start it all over again?!"

The only answer he received was that of the mournful wail of the wind and an echoing explosion.

He knelt and cradled the girl easily in his arms. She did not move or complain at his treatment. She just nestled passively in his embrace, still and quiet as a mouse.

"I'm taking you home," he said to her as he half-dragged, half-carried her to safety.

She said nothing, gave no indication that she had ever heard him speak, or even notice that he was there. The only voice she heard now, could ever hear now, was one she would hear to the end of eternity.

(The Planet saved me from this fate) he realized with a numb chill. (But it's too late for Avine. Too late for all of us.)

As he continued walking, he heard a low, busy humming, and discovered that it came from the motionless bundle in his arms. She hummed tunelessly, a vibrating drone that seemed to make his bones shiver in discomfort right down to the marrow.

"Damn it," he said again, vehemently. "Damn YOU. You've done it again."

Raising his voice, he yelled, hoping his voice could carry above the clamor of battle, "To Deling!"

With that, he began to run, hands clutched tightly around his precious burden.

.....................................................................................................................

Daniel joined him, forcing his way through a thicket of Galbadians who were running off towards Coruthary. His fists and face were streaked rust-red, but miraculously his eyes brightened as they came to rest upon his girlfriend. A look of sensitive concern formed on his face. "What happened?" he asked croakily.

"I have no idea," Sephiroth lied through his teeth. Now was not the time to regale Daniel with a tale of his past, how he knew the symptoms, all too well... that the Jenova cells were multiplying, attacking Avine's body systems, mutating and taking over her ordinary genetic makeup. "She is alive and healthy for the moment. Dr. Kadowadi can take care of her when we get back to Balamb." Oh, he hated lying so much, hated to deceive his comrade as he saw Daniel perk up at his words, inwardly wincing as he thought of the truth— that no doctor could treat the damage, to make Avine human again.

"Yeah, you're right...we better scram before those damned Galbadian dogs suddenly spot two cadets standing casually in the middle of their camp making idle conversation," Daniel growled.

"Have you seen Paine anywhere?" Sephiroth asked, glancing around.

Right on cue, the black-haired girl appeared like magic at Sephiroth's side. "Sorry, sir, ran into a bit of trouble. I've got something to report that might interest you—"

"If it doesn't concern escaping alive and in one piece, save it for later," Sephiroth advised.

"So what are your orders for now, leader?" Paine asked.

"RUN!!!"

Which was what they did.

Rynee and Keire hailed them joyfully, both of them wounded and bleeding freely, though not seriously, form various cuts on their person. "Congratulations, Squad B!" Rynee hollered, a trace of a smile on her lips. The three of them were just starting to smile in elation as the euphoria of their impossible success filled them, before Rynee added in dire tones, "But we're not out of this yet. Hurry, we must return to the ship before the Galbadians find out that the sorceress is missing."

"What next?" Daniel asked.

"We're to regroup at Dollet...what are you waiting for? Go already!" Rynee snapped impatiently.

Fear of Rynee's wrath, if nothing else, got them on a hasty march in two seconds flat. Though Sephiroth's strength had been enhanced by his injections, the silver-haired youth was starting to feel the pull of gravity more strongly than ever. Avine was a dead weight in his grasp, staring obsessively at the sky, humming. The weight of memories too pressed heavily on him, and often he found himself glancing at Avine's vacuous expression with an unpleasant squirm in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't help but feel a little guilt too, for not being able to save her sooner and save her from a doom that was a fate far worse than death, though he knew that the feeling was ridiculous. It was the folly of the Galbadians for going to bed with this monster that was the worst of all hellspawn.

Suddenly Avine twitched a bit, that started shaking violently. Out of pure shock, Sephiroth halted, and Daniel, who was behind him and clearly not anticipating his stop, crashed headlong into him. Looking very annoyed, the martial artist said, "Sephiroth, did I ever tell you that you have exceedingly hard bones?"

"No," Sephiroth replied, not really listening. "Avine's awoken, you twit!"

In the time it took to blink Daniel was standing in front of his girlfriend, gazing at her in horror. Avine was convulsing mightily, white froth bubbling out of her mouth. Every so often she let out a harsh, sharp cry. Sephiroth was mystified as well as alarmed. He had never seen the taint progress so fast...he had no idea what to do, and he hated the feeling.

"What's the holdup back there?" Rynee's stentorian voice drifted towards them.

"Instructor, you should come see this, it's serious!" Paine shouted, looking on the verge of a panic attack. Tentatively she touched Avine's shoulder. "Avine?" she called the girl's name softly, hoping to snap her out of the fit.

Avine mumbled something, her head lolling. Sephiroth's heart clenched painfully to hear them. Daniel looked at Sephiroth, puzzled, then the girl spoke louder, in a delirious, slurred voice.

"Darkness...fire...lonely...cold, so cold...voices...in my head... dark...where is everyone? Blind, deaf, no one, no one..."

"No, Avine, I'm here!" Daniel moaned, wringing his hands and looking desperate. "Can't you hear me? I'm beside you, and I won't leave you again as long as you live..." Tears were pouring silently down his face.

"No one..." Avine said again. Her face seemed totally drained of blood, the features shrunken, the beauty hideous, her eyes disturbingly large and the only color in her face. "No one but her." She murmured the last so softly only Sephiroth heard it, and in a fury the swordsman clenched his fists, thinking of all the lives Jenova/Adele had ruined.

And how she sang, so sweetly, to him as he lay sobbing, broken and battered, in the cold corner of a musty, cramped little cell, and made him smile through his tears, the tears of a lonely little boy...

He turned away from the memory and back to the present, lowering Avine to the ground with infinite tenderness. Daniel hovered over her like a mother hen, touching her face and whispering broken words of love and comfort. Rynee sprinted back, staring at Avine, and cursed bitterly. "We might as well deliver ourselves to the Galbadians' front step!" she said angrily. "Just grab the blasted girl and we might make it!"

"She can't be moved," Daniel said stubbornly, his chin jutting out.

"Then she'll get caught," Rynee said in a low hiss, her yellow eyes gleaming palely in the darkness. "We'll all get caught, and it'll have been all for nothing. Avine would be back in the hands of the Galbadians, and all of us will be killed with mercy, hopefully. If not, there's the rack, the Iron Maiden...well, what do you want, Roheiz? A chance or no chance?"

Rynee and Daniel locked gazes and the youth was the first to break eye contact.

"You promised your emotions wouldn't interfere with the mission, boy. Don't break it," Rynee said quietly.

Daniel snorted and bent to slip his arms around his girl. The moment his fingers brushed her skin, she lashed out at him across his face. Her nails left bleeding scratches on his visage. She was suddenly wild, spitting like a startled cat, clawing and biting at Daniel. He withdrew, pain and hurt leaving their own marks in his eyes and on his face.

"Avine, love, it's me," he cried.

"You left me," she snarled at him, her first coherent sentence. He flinched at the accusation in her words. "No, Avine, let me explain, I came back for you, didn't I? Today..."

"Too late," she said, echoing Sephiroth's own thoughts. "Not one of you. All, they left me, alone in the dark and the demons came in and played tag in my head."

"Avine!" Daniel said, horrified, backing away. "Your eyes...they're turning red..."

"You could've stopped them. But you went away. The demons tore everything down and they laughed and they're still laughing. Can't you hear them?" She was on her feet, her lips pulled back against her teeth in a wild, feral grimace. "It hurts my ears and makes my eyes bleed. They're mocking me and I can feel them dancing inside. Everything I see is red now...red, the color of the demons' eyes...like fire, like blood."

Rynee drew her sword. Avine's red eyes were reflected in the steel. At the rasp of the steel sliding from its scabbard, Daniel spun. His eyes grew enormous. "No, no, you can't hurt her," he screeched. He hurled himself at Rynee, disarming her and knocking her down to the dust.

"Idiot boy! You're going to get us all murdered!" Rynee snapped at him savagely. "She's mad, can't you see that, or are you blind too? She's stark, staring MAD!"

"No..." Daniel said hopelessly.

Avine watched them all, an unsettling smile curving her lips. She clapped her hands in gruesome delight. "Like dolls," she said, "Broken dolls all scattered and twisted out of shape. The demons are telling me to kill you, you know." She paused and tilted her head to one side, smiling, a charming, twisted smile that so different from the sunny, carefree smile Avine had worn so long ago in her photograph. "I think I will," she announced decisively. "You haven't been very nice to me, and if I kill you you'll make me happy at last. Isn't that what you want, Danny? You always wanted to make me smile, but then you left me with the screaming darkness. We'll make up, Danny. You can be the first."

"Love..." Daniel croaked, his brown eyes haunted, filled with undescribable agony.

Avine spoke a single word of command, so strong that it tore Sephiroth's shields to smithereens and sent him flying across the Plains to join his companions, sprawled in various undignified positions on the hard ground. Paine let out a scream as the broadsword she was holding in her hand sank between her ribs. Keire crawled forward to help her, his expression filled with disbelief. A huge bruise was blooming spectacularly across his forehead where he had hit his head.

Avine gestured and Daniel was jerked upright like a puppet on invisible strings. He was calm now, a numb, deadly calm that stole his fear. He bowed his soul down in defeat, was ready to accept the price for his foolishness. Avine smiled at him impishly, as his body zoomed forward to float before her. She stroked his hair and cheeks, smoothing down the wayward strands. "Don't be sad, Danny. In death we'll be together, you and I. You see, I'm halfway dead already. I'm dying everyday. Every second the demons drag me down little by little into hell. Then we can sit in the field of flowers and you can read to me and kiss me like we used to in life. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Together," Daniel echoed.

Unnoticed, Sephiroth had struggled to his feet. He had retained the Masamune in his hand without stabbing himself by some miracle. The hilt of the sword was warm and pulsed in his hand. He watched in growing horror as Avine drew Daniel's face to hers and kissed him with mock affection. He knew at once from the stupor that had settled on Daniel's face that it would not be a kiss that Daniel would recover from. Avine sought to draw her boyfriend's life force into her body, drain it so thoroughly that Daniel's body would forever become an empty shell, without any hope of resurrection.

He looked at his companions. All of them had their own problems. Paine, bleeding profusely, had swooned from the shock and blood loss while Keire desperately tore strips of cloth from his shirt and used them to staunch the bleeding. Rynee's leg was at an awkward angle; apparently it had bent and shattered under her when she had fallen. She was eagle-spread on the ground, crawling, trying to reach her sword which was some distance away. He was the only one left fit to fight.

He was on his own.

Yet how could he do it? Avine was an innocent. She might still be saved.

(At the costs of your friends' lives. Can you pay it?) a voice inside him spoke softly.

He shook his head. "No," he said. He saw the mark of death on Daniel's face. He was going. If Sephiroth wanted to act, he'd better move fast.

The Planet's pre-mission words came back to him, and in a flash of insight, he understood. At that time, he hadn't, but now, faced with such a situation...

...in order to do the right thing, you must do the wrong thing...

... think of her death not so much as condemnation as liberation...

He knew now, what he must do. Though he did not like it, and he knew he would forever regret it.

Yet it had to be done, for the sake of the world. A mad sorceress was a hazard to the populace.

He repeated it like a mantra over and over again in his head, trying to convince himself he was right. To himself, he sounded weak and pathetic.

"Mad people don't act right. They can't see the light anymore. Just...make it quick," he told himself sadly.

Engrossed in her spell, Avine did not see Sephiroth, did not take note of him until his blade swiped past in a blur of silver—

She screamed, realized she had been thwarted, just before her brain finished registering that she was one very dead sorceress—

severing her head from her neck.

The air tingled, and seemed to sigh. Green-yellow vapor escaped from Avine's slumped body, then evaporated with a faint hiss.

Daniel collapsed to the ground. His skin was freezing cold to the touch, but he was breathing. Sephiroth conjured up a healing spell, and the boy sighed, then sank into healing sleep.

"You did the right thing, mate," Keire said, offering forlorn consolation as Sephiroth walked towards him, carrying Daniel bodily. "Don't.. don't make this hard on yourself."

The silver-haired youth nodded mechanically. Inside, his guts were one big solid block of ice. He had failed the innocents.

Again.

"Now what?" Rynee said eventually, accepting her sword which Sephiroth handed back to her. "They told me this would be an easy mission for once...fat chance." The yellow-eyed instructor sighed and gingerly slit the side of her trousers to have a look at her broken leg. She finished her spell and winced as the bones knitted together. She stood up, wobbled as she tried to put weight on her injured leg. Even spells had its limitations. "For the first time, I failed a mission." She sounded almost disbelieving.

"Unexpected circumstances," Sephiroth replied. He put Daniel down and cast a Fire spell, holding the small ball of flames close to Daniel's chilled body, trying to keep him warm. "Anyway, I was the one who killed Avine."

"You saved our skins, cadet," Rynee said, very softly. "You acted out of initiative... and though you may not have thought it, you saved Avine as well. I know her. She was such a happy, merry girl. She would have been appalled at what she had become." She stopped, a little embarrassed. "Anyway, you have my commendation."

"Thank you..." Sephiroth began, then winced as a sharp pain flared in his left shoulder. He rubbed at it, but the agony worsened. He was writhing on the grass, gasping at the intensity pf the attacks.

"Not again!" Rynee groaned, hobbling nearer to stand protectively beside the fallen cadet. "You, sorceress, show yourself!"

There was a ripping sound, and a scream. Sephiroth's back arched, and his eyes were pulled open to their limits. Something was coming out, he was sure of it. He flopped on his belly, face down, hacking. His skin split open, and all pain fled, leaving behind the horror he had to face.

A single glossy black wing, a raven's wing, protruded from his shoulder, beautiful and majestic, but to Sephiroth, filled with countless terrible memories of 'the One-Winged Angel'.

"Hyne, no," he coughed in despair.

Rynee was looking at him, but he avoided her gaze. He didn't want to see the revulsion in her gaze, didn't want to see himself, reflected in her eyes.

They were all staring. Why didn't they look away?

SHE must be here. That was why his cells had reacted.

Hyne, couldn't they see the danger?

"GO, she's coming!" he yelled, his voice raspy and hoarse, "Leave me, she wants...me...alone..."

"Nonsense," Rynee said firmly, crouching. "SeeDs stick with one another. We've all taken an oath."

Gratitude fluttered in his heart, even as the dark wings of despair rose to overtake it. A woman stood before them, her slender, hourglass body silhouetted against the light of the burning city. She cast her hood back, and sleek, violet hair tumbled out in a waterfall. Golden eyes burned with unreadable emotion in a face remarkable for its perfect symmetry and exquisite features.

"Greetings, my son," she said in a voice as cold and distant as the far away stars. "So we meet again."

.....................................................................................................................

Author's Ending Note: Ha ha, I bet all of you could have just murdered me for cutting this chapter off like that. Did I mention how much I adore cliffhangers? (whistles innocently) Whew, thought I would never get this chapter done. In truth I've been working on it since Friday, but today (Monday) is the day I really worked seriously on it. It's twelve midnight and I could really use some caffeine, but I don't have any. (Mistake: Today's Tuesday. Now. ) It is definitely the most ambitious chapter I ever wrote. I originally planned for five thousand words but the words just flowed out without stopping. You're writers; you know what I mean, so I don't have to elaborate. And I know a few of you reading this have typed fifty-paged chapters, so you're probably wondering what the big deal this is all about. Well, eighteen pages is considered an accomplishment to me anyway. However, watch out for grammar and spelling errors, I bet this chapter is full of 'em. It's rather hard to read 18 pages through and correct every single teensy mistake when your eyes fall close ( FLOP! ) every five seconds or so. And a few questions... how do you spell the name of that doctor in the infirmary at Garden? Did Sephiroth's wing stick out on the left or right? I would be grateful if you would answer. Preferably in a review. ( smirks )As an irrelevant note, the reason I spent all day doing this was because I was not only typing this out from a skinny framework in my mind, I was playing Final Fantasy VIII for about the fifth time ( that game's second only to VII ) AND reading Harry Potter fanfiction. I'm crazy about Tom/Ginny...ugh, I'm going off topic. Anyway, good night to all of you...or good morning... YAWN...

Darn, I still have to say thank you to all my previous reviewers. Normally, I would have enjoyed the job, but not when I have massive eye bags. Oh yeah, reminder, I'm in Asia, which means the time zone's way different here.

OH YEAH, I can't believe this, I've typed out eight thousand and five hundred words according to Microsoft and now tells me I've only typed out, like, seven thousand five? That's so darned unfair!!! What's with the counting system?!!!

Er, okay, I'll stop my ranting now.

Thanks to:

Noacat: What can I say? It's natural. (Tries to look modest, but fails)

Dark Feruil: I apologize for my mistake. I forgot that the SeeD grad ball is only held after the cadets pass their SeeD exam, which Sephiroth is going through now... you better wish him luck, looks like he needs it! BOTH in the exam and the ball. (Rubs hands eagerly.)

Anasazi Darkmoon: Probably will, in later chapters. In earlier chapters I just randomly pick a Guardian to make a key response, so Alex's and Eden's exclusion isn't deliberate. Want me to include other GFs?

Zack M. Strith: Never had the notion of using Tiamat in this story, but I'll try. In my opinion, however, when I was beating the crap out of Tiamat at Ultimecia's castle Tiamat looked pretty male to me. Then again, maybe it's just the graphics.

Mifurey: Thanks for reviewing too! When are you going to update SSN anyway? Now that my exams are over, I'm going to do loads of reading, so update!!! P.S. Thanks for the award! And when's the roleplay going to start?!

Travithian Axile signing out


	17. 16: Trouble in Esthar

A Word From the Author: I just got my English, Lit. and Math papers back today (Thursday). Math is OK, but I'm mad that I just missed getting top grades in the other two by ONE measly mark. GRRR! So darned unfair. Okay, everyone knows the world is unfair, but like Calvin said in Hobbes (at least I think so) : "...but why can't the world ever be unfair in my favor?" ANYWAY. That's not the point. The point here is the STORY. This chapter skips back a few days to when Laguna has just gotten killed and there's a lot of political stuff going on in Esthar at the moment. I know that you guys are all screaming for more Sephiroth/ Jenova interaction, but this coming scene is a seriously important plot device and it needs to go in. No, it can't wait. BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Seriously, otherwise the story will have a big hole in it. Cheer up, it has got Quisty in it, and she definitely doesn't take any more crap than she used to in the game. You go, girl! So, time to read!

Chapter Sixteen: Trouble in Esthar

The day before his death Laguna had been in her office. He hadn't visited for a while; he had been too busy. He looked older than ever, and it was such a drastic change in his usual buoyant personality that she was worried for him. More gray hairs streaked his black hair, more lines wrinkled his face, and he moved awkwardly, slowly, instead of the unconscious grace he had displayed when he was young. His broad shoulders seemed shrunken, more stooped, but more telling was the look in his eyes. Once bright, eager, curious, adventurous, now he just appeared weary and sad, though his natural spark of merriment still thrived deep in his orbs. How come she had never noticed before? Perhaps when she thought of Laguna, she still saw that brash, foolhardy young man he had been all those years ago. Now, though, Quistis was struck, suddenly, by the realization that Laguna was getting old. She had known that before, but without the full import of what that meant. He was old, and he was tired. He was no loner young' his energy was exhaustible. His next words proved that without a shadow of a doubt.

"I want to retire, Quistis," he had said, rubbing his eyes with a quick, practiced gesture. He ran his hands through his graying hair and sighed deeply. "But I'm the one the people look up to, the one the people trust, and I can't throw it all away. I've spent about a third of a century helping Esthar grow, and these are my people. I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone." He gave a dry, but bitter laugh.

"Wouldn't it be good for them? For me to display weakness...just a little...and they would be on me like a pack of wolves...claiming I'm senile, losing my touch, unfit to lead..." Frustrated, he shook his head. "Damn it, Quistis, since when did my Esthar degenerate into a lair of wolves?"

She glanced at him, almost appalled at what he was saying. She had never heard so much full emotion in his voice before. He had bags under his eyes, she noticed, and his hair was not combed. So uncharacteristic. He clashed so horribly with the image of the content, charismatic President she had built up in her mind. Or had it really been him at all? She was the only one who had ever known him, seen his past self through the eyes of Ellone, someone whom he could confide in with trust.

Laguna smiled wanly. "I know what you're thinking, Quistis. And I totally agree. I love this job, don't get me wrong, and Esthar is my home. It's just, so, responsible. And I've never been that much of a sucker for responsibility. I still have trouble believing it. Me, a President?" He chuckled, and took a sip from the cup of tea she had offered him. He set it down, and the humor faded from his face. "But the thing is, if I retire..." He sighed, and hunched down in his seat, absently stirring his tea. "The wolves will be waiting, for the pack leader to step down so they can fight for the vacant position to the death. Skeiz Mardon...oh, I see you know who he is. Of course you would. He's the vice-president, second to me, and Skeiz has never liked being second."

Quistis wrinkled her nose in distaste and mutual agreement. She had never quite liked Skeiz either, though he was good, good at his job. Better, in fact. He was serious, intense, focused and intelligent. He had undergone military training at Galbadia Garden and had developed an amazing talent with the whip, like her. The Academy of Esthar still sang praises about their most promising, most brilliant student. However, he also possessed ambition in great quantities, and he was young and hot-blooded. So far he had been patient, waiting for Laguna to leave. But even Skeiz wouldn't wait forever.

Now that she thought about it, a shiver passed down her spine. It seemed almost like a premonition, in light of what was to come, but at that time she had not known that.

Instead she had smiled reassuringly at the President and one of her closest friends. Quistis was Headmistress of Esthar Garden, which had been built a year after the fall of Ultimecia. She had never regretted that decision, and took delight in performing her duties, but sometimes she missed her friends and comrades-in-arms with an ache that was almost physical. Oh, when they were free, they did drop in to visit sometimes, but that was not often, and she was not always able to entertain them, being far too loaded down with her various meetings and responsibilities. She remembered vividly the last time Irvine had visited, her office had been so buried in mounds of paperwork that she had not been noticed when the cowboy had entered. In fact, she was so engrossed that Irvine had to lean over the pile of official-looking documents in front of her, remove the pen she was holding in her hand and say hello. He was smiling gently, half seriously, half jokingly, as he told her that she had to relax sometimes. She wished she could take his advice, but now with Galbadia stirring from its sleep like a long dormant dragon, there was no way she could ignore that threat. She was making her cadets and SeeDs work hard, to prepare for the new threat.

"But Skeiz has his reputation to protect if her wants to win the Estharians over to his side. When he makes a move, if he makes a move, it won't be too big. So don't worry. One day Skeiz will be replaced with someone more capable than he is and you can find a successor. Then you can happily hand over the presidency and go to live with Squall and Rinoa and grown old telling stories to all the children at the orphanage. More importantly, spent time with your family," Quistis said in a chipper voice. "One can only hope."

Laguna had laughed quietly and shook his head, his long hair waving in front of his face. "I wish, Quistis, I wish." His smile was wistful, and his eyes held a glimmer of sadness still. But his expression was definitely lighter, more jovial, as he rose to leave. His bodyguards, standing like statues at Quistis' door, snapped to attention.

"Oh, you're going already? You barely got here," Quistis asked, disappointed. Her chats with Laguna, when he could make it after a long, exhausting day of work, were practically the high points of her days. To be able to sit here, with someone who had gone through war, as she had, to be understood.

He smiled at her. "Yes, sorry," he said apologetically. Distractedly he ran both hands through his hair again, messing it up even further. "Arne's coming next week with my son and daughter-in-law. Do you think you could give yourself a break and tour Esthar with us?"

"I'll be glad to, Laguna," Quistis said at once. "It'll do you good to loosen yourself up a bit."

Laguna grinned crookedly. "I can hear it in your voice, Quistis. You think I look terrible, don't you." He held up his hand, forestalling further protest. "Yes, you're right. I do need a break. Well, see you around, Quistis. I'll call you later to arrange the time."

"Goodbye." She waved at him, then hugged him impulsively. One of Laguna's guards scowled in disapproval, then hastily rearranged his features. Laguna was surprised, but pleased. He squeezed her back briefly before letting go. They exchanged another round of farewells, then he turned around and left with his entourage.

A final goodbye, a last meeting. She never saw him alive again.

Two days later he was dead. She stared at the unmoving corpse, covered with a white shroud, through blurry eyes. She gazed at the body of the man who had meant so much to her, who only hours before had been animated with life and humor. And he was dead.

It was the first time she had ever cried in public. She couldn't believe it. Laguna had deserved to die peacefully and happily with his family and friends near the sea in Edea's orphanage. Not here, in the heart of the political storm that was Esthar, surrounded by cold, unfeeling politicians that squabbled and schemed to fill the vacant spot at the head of power.

The elections were held speedily and hastily a day after Laguna's death. Skeiz Mardon was chosen, and his face beaming in triumph, he walked out of the election hall waving to the Estharians amid the flashing of camcorders. Few smiled back. Like Quistis, they were numbed and shocked that the beloved President that had nourished Esthar for as long as they could remember through strife and peace was gone. Quistis found Skeiz's megawatt smile, his million-dollar suit, and the billion-dollar ceremony pretentious and showy. Laguna had never been one to spend money on appearance. He liked to keep things simple, he said, and when he went to work everyday, it was in the blue shirt and trousers he had been wearing when Quistis and her friends had seen him for the first time. When she had asked if he had ever washed his clothes, he had laughed and said that he had about a hundred of the same outfits hanging in his closet back in his residence. Quistis remembered his laughter with a sharp pang. She would never hear it again, and she cherished the precious memory in her heart like a fragile butterfly.

Skeiz was making his speech. She wasn't listening. Her eyes found the ground as he spoke confidently on. Someone tapped her shoulder then, and she jumped like a spooked cat. Flushing and embarrassed at her ridiculous reaction, she twisted her head around to look. It was Kiros, wearing traditional robes of black in mourning. He looked ill and miserable. No wonder. Laguna had one of his best buddies for practically forever. He, Ward and Kiros had been a threesome back in the days of their service in the Galbadia Army and were inseparable. He had endured the first pain when Ward had died. Then he had Laguna and both of them had comforted the other. Now he was alone, the last of them. Quistis wondered how he felt. Worse than her, probably, and that was saying something. He looked simply awful, and his dark skin had a lighter hue than usual. With another twist of her stomach, she wondered if the news had reached the Leonheart clan already. They had not just lost a friend; they had lost family.

"May I sit here?" Kiros asked politely, indicating the seat next to her. She nodded mutely. So they sat there, not drinking in a single word of Skeiz's speech, which was clearly winding to a dramatic climax, wallowing in their pain, shared, amplified by the thousands of bewildered Estharians that sat around them. Not all, though. Here and there some cheered for Skeiz and sneered at mention of Laguna. Quistis had to swallow and fist her hands at her sides to stop herself from leaping at them like a tigress and throttling them.

"I can't believe he's gone," Kiros said after a brief pause. She looked at him; his dark eyes were bottomless pools of indescribable grief. "Me too," she said softly. "Is it...is it foul play?" she added, choking at the very idea that someone would hate likable, charismatic Laguna so much to go to all the trouble of killing him.

Kiros sighed and absently played with his braids. "I don't want to think so," he said slowly, but the expression in his eyes indicated he did feel that such was the case. "There's just not enough proof, Quistis. Jeremy cleaned up the mess before the police arrived to investigate and disappeared shortly afterwards. We still don't know what happened to him." He looked at her very seriously. "Maybe someone tried to shut him up."

"Maybe," she echoed glumly.

After a while Kiros stood up and sighed. "I better get back to the palace to pack my stuff. I have to leave by this afternoon."

Startled, Quistis peered at him. "...Leave! Whatever for? Aren't you staying on as advisor to the president?"

Kiros shook his head, eyes grave. "No. Mardon...President Mardon just fired the entire staff last night following Laguna's..." He couldn't say the word. "...and replaced us with new loyalists. This will only be the first sign, Quistis." They locked gazes, and she understood perfectly. "Where will you go next?" she asked him.

Kiros pondered. "I haven't really thought about it. Perhaps I shall visit my hometown in Centra. I have been away for far too long." He gave her a wan smile. "So long, Quistis. I'll see you again someday."

She nodded. As he left, she suddenly felt very alone. She wanted desperately to leave, but as Headmistress of Esthar Garden, she was obliged to stay put to the very end and escort Skeiz back to the palace where he wanted a meeting with the other important leaders of the city. Rumor had it that Edigier Deling of Galbadia would be flying in tomorrow to 'discuss' the possibility of alliance with Esthar.

"We're doomed," she muttered to herself in despair.

(Back at the Presidential Palace)

Quistis sat quietly in the guest room, pretending to read a magazine, but in truth her eyes were not taking in one word of the article she was looking at. Her mind was going over the events of the recently adjourned meeting. She had not said one word. No one had. They were too shocked, as Skeiz wove his grand schemes of domination into words. He had spoken with the Galbadian President, he had announced in faintly smug tones. Galbadia and Esthar would combine into one vast force, the leading nation in technology. The smaller countries would be assimilated into the empire and any who resisted would automatically become enemies of the state. The empire, known as Es-carda, would be ruled jointly by the Presidents of both nations.

"Of course," he hastened to assure them, "the people will still have free choice of will in whether they will be included in to this glorious venture. However, sadly, they will have to be banished from Esthar...permanently. We cannot allow discord to spread within and undermine our rule."

It sure sounded like dictatorship to Quistis.

At last Quistis reached a decision. She stood and threw the magazine to the floor, stretching her limbs. She had sat cross-legged on the bed for a very long time, debating with herself. She believed that she had made the right choice. She could not possibly serve a man she had no respect for.

She made towards the door, but before she could open it, there was a smart rap on the polished wood. She opened it only to see Skeiz waiting outside, a bulky bodyguard rippling with muscle behind him. He flashed her a blinding smile. "Miss Trepe. I wish to have a private conversation with you, if you don't mind. Pardon me, for I am aware that the hour is late..."

"That's alright, sir. I was going to find you too. I have something I need to say," Quistis replied in as respectful a tone she could muster.

Skeiz looked surprised, and his smile dimmed by a couple of molars, then he said," Very well, then. Dmitri, please remain where you are," he added, as his companion started to follow him inside. The man grunted and stepped backwards, taking up a position next to the door and looking ready to fight off an entire army.

Quistis closed the door as Skeiz got comfortable on the room's only chair. It was the first time they had ever been in a room alone together and now she took the opportunity to study him. His eyes were sharp, penetrating and a clear blue. They constantly roved around, seeking, searching, for danger. He had been trained as a SeeD, after all, though he had never qualified as one. His instructors had found him impulsive and with a tendency to be violent in frustrating situations. She had trained him herself in the use of the whip. He had been dark-haired then, but now his head was clean-shaven. His features were extraordinarily angular and narrow; everything edged like a bird of prey. He was watching her as carefully as she was him. Distrust thickened the air until Quistis imagined that she could actually touch it.

He spoke first, locking his fingers together and laying them on his lap. "Why don't you sit down, Miss Trepe? It is a bit of a bother looking up at you all the time. IT' giving me a crick in the neck."

Quistis knew that she was making Skeiz uncomfortable. By standing and looking down at him, she was in a position of superiority. Quistis allowed herself a little catty moment and replied politely, "No thanks, sir. I plan to be leaving shortly after this meeting anyway."

His eyes narrowed, and Quistis was pleased to see that her words had struck a nerve. "Really? Where to, Miss Trepe? You are welcome to stay overnight at the residence. There is no need to feel that you are abusing my hospitality."

"It's not that, sir. Why don't you speak first? You're the President."

Skeiz Mardon looked at her again, hard, taking the measure of her. His wiry frame did not relax as he said, "I believe you still retain connections to your associates in the Second Sorceress War?"

Quistis frowned. This conversation was starting to reek of rat very strongly. "Of course, sir. Do you want me to contact them?"

"Not in the way you think." He was smiling now, not the light bulb one he reserved for the reporters, but a creepy vampire one (A/N: I've been reading too much Artemis Fowl.) "I have…something else in mind. And when you became Headmistress, you swore to work only in Esthar's best interests, did you not?" His voice was flat and angry now, and his eyes were burning.

"Yes, sir." Quistis definitely did not like the turn the conversation was taking.

"This is an order, Miss Trepe. You are to leave tomorrow morning for the orphanage run by the Kramers. Do whatever you have to, but get the Leonheart senior on your plane to see me. Do you understand? I want to see him immediately."

"Is this kidnap, sir?" Quistis asked coolly.

"No, it's not," Skeiz said very quietly. "You are friends, are you not? He trusts you. He will come of his own accord. It is not kidnap. Do you understand me, Miss Trepe? It is merely a meeting between two old friends. Surely you cannot bungle a mission that easy."

Quistis thought very fast. Skeiz was telling her that her career was shot if she failed to carry out his command. He was trying to take advantage of her ties to the Leonheart family to accomplish this. Unable to restrain herself, she said coldly, "I understand perfectly, sir. You want me to betray someone who's been my friend for over twenty years for your own ends. This only strengthens my decision. I'm sorry, sir, but it is not within my capacity to serve you as you wish. I quit."

Skeiz's mouth dropped open and he stared at the former Headmistress. Quistis calmly picked up a bag, sauntered away and pulled open the door to the suite. She ignored Dmitri and jogged down the corridor—towards the exit. She was in it now, she knew. Quistis realized that it would be easier to feign cooperation and depart tomorrow as he had asked, whereupon she could leave Esthar forever, but she had been unable to stop herself from lashing out at him. She was furious; wrath was building up in her like steam from a kettle. How dare he. HOW DARE HE.

Skeiz finally found his voice. "Dmitri? Get her, damn you!"

Dmitri asked no questions. He lumbered after her, pulling a gun from his jacket holster. "Stop!" he yelled. Skeiz ran from Quistis' room, rapidly yanking out his black whip, Spike, from his belt and undoing the catches. His face was twisted in rage.

Quistis turned and struck with Save the Queen. The gold links of the whip curled around Dmitri's ankles and he tripped, falling to the floor with a thud. Quistis could have sworn the floor trembled. Skeiz brandished his weapon. "Fight me, bitch!" he yelled, already losing control. Quistis shook her head in disappointment. After all this time, Skeiz still hadn't learnt.

"Sleep," she said almost gently, as the magic swirled out of her fingers and surrounded him like a sparkling haze. Fortunately he was not protected against her sorcery, and he collapsed to the floor, his face twitching as he tried to remain awake. Quistis bent her will on him, and his expression went slack. Quistis grinned in satisfaction. She had wanted to do that for a very long time. She shoved them inside her room, with difficulty (Dmitri was roughly the size and weight of a gorilla) and sprinted down the hall. They would be found soon, and she wanted to get out of here as fast as possible and return to Balamb.

She strolled out of the palace, refraining from running as it would look too suspicious. She took the air-seat to the Airstation and greeted the guard at the doors. Nearly all of them had been trained under her. She felt sorry for them as the youth greeted her brightly and permitted her to pass without question. She was leaving them behind to face Skeiz's anger when he finally woke up.

The guard standing next to the Mirrormists was different from the rest. Though he wore the same uniform, he had a black insignia pinned on his breast. An image of a raven and a thorn was sewn into it. His face was unrecognizable. Quistis felt unease. She knew everyone here. It could be one of Skeiz's men.

"ID?" he asked in a hoarse voice, his gaze scanning her. She produced her laminated card and he examined it closely, as though determined to detect a forgery. When it passed the test, he grunted and handed it back. "Business?"

"I was assigned by the President himself to a top secret mission," she answered haughtily. "Now let me pass. The situation is extremely urgent and the President will be most displeased if I am delayed."

The guard's eyes squinted at her. He looked suspicious. "I had better call the President to make sure," he muttered, reaching for the black Farspeaker dangling from his belt. Quistis groaned. Just what she needed. A loyal guard who wouldn't take a crap without asking for permission first.

Therefore, she decked him.

A couple of officials passing by gaped at her, their jaws open in a comical O of confusion. She ignored them and headed towards the nearest plane. Thankfully her access card had not been deleted from the active list yet, and she slotted it into the reader. With a beep, the door popped open and she entered. It slid shut behind her. She raced toward the cockpit and began typing a string of commands, occasionally speaking them aloud. In seconds the entire system was configured so that the computer would only listen to her.

"Activate camouflage mode. Threat assessment level five. Now," she ordered as she manipulated the controls. The sleek jet rose into the air, engines firing, and with an audible pop! vanished into thin air. Only a slight shimmer, like a heat wave, betrayed its presence.

"Mirror F9-0458, this is Esthar Airstation Control. You are not authorized to leave the landing pad. Touch down NOW or the security personnel will be sent to bring you down," blared a voice from the intercom. Quistis smirked. She had been sitting idle behind her desk for too long. This promised to be an exciting chase.

"Eat dung, Control." She found the Off switch and flipped it. The voice went silent in mid-threat. Quistis spoke again. "Prepare missiles for firing. Laser cannon, begin charge. Targeting system, on. Communications, down. Shields, on. Sensors, report."

Five planes, type F9, closing in, approximately two miles away at a speed of five hundred kilometers per hour. Target lock. All in threat approach. Lasers on. Label as enemy?

"Yes." Quistis watched as the blue blips on her screen turned red. She zoomed away from the city, unwilling to hurt civilians if she could help it. Something told her there would be a lot of wreckage dropping from the sky. Burning wreckage.

Pilot, F9-0167 is attempting to call you. Answer? the computer buzzed.

"Fine. Put whoever it is on."

The radio crackled. A voice stated, "Esthar Security Personnel. Miss Trepe, stop this madness and get back on ground. We have no wish to hurt you."

"Quistis Trepe. If so, stop chasing me. It's annoying."

"I take it this means you are not going to surrender?"

"I don't need to surrender. I haven't done anything wrong."

"President Mardon has ordered your arrest. He is willing to be forgiving, however, if you just follow us quietly back—"

"That's a good one. However, I don't believe it one whit." She hesitated, then continued, "Do you know what you're working for? Mardon is not a good man, pilot. He will be signing your death warrants by hooking up with Galbadia. You will all be at the mercy of President Deling."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end. "You didn't know that?" Quistis asked, mercilessly pressing on. She told the pilot the whole dirty story in three short sentences.

"Nevertheless, Miss, I have my orders." The pilot's voice was sad. "Unlike you, I am Estharian. I will not turn traitor."

Quistis sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too, if you will believe that, Miss." The pilot cut the connection and Quistis sat in silence for a few seconds before pulling herself together. She was facing five to one odds, and she had better get busy. However, deep within, there was regret for the job she must do. But she had to do it. She was a soldier. And a survivor.

She glanced at the dark blue sky around her and saw nothing. But her sensors had sharper eyes than she. Quistis knew that the other ships could pick her up on their screens as well. Hers showed that they were lining up above, beside, and behind her. They were trying to corner her. Quistis smiled and shook her head. Nuh-uh. She broke out by flying straight at one of the ships and it darted aside to avoid the crash.

"Activate Auto-Pilot," she stated. "Destination: Balamb Garden." She slid in a disk; she had been planning for her grand escapade for some time already. "Download file. Follow specified route."

Download Complete. Switching to new route

"Thanks, computer." That gave her some time to get out if here without harming someone. She didn't want to hurt the people she had lived amongst for so long. They weren't the real villains; they were just following orders because that was what they had been trained to do. She pulled out a shiny black laptop from her bag and started clacking away. She found the air control ports in no time and dug out an encrypter, an extremely useful little device Dr. Odine had given her. She attached it to her computer and within seconds it proudly produced the passwords. The plane lurched as the first lasers creased the shields and pinged off.

Return fire?

"No," she snapped, then corrected herself, "Yes. Fire rear lasers, power intensity setting zero point five."

That is the lowest setting. Do you wish to proceed?

"Yes, yes," Quistis said impatiently. She returned to her computer and typed some more, digging her fingers deep into the guts of the security systems. She smiled in delight as she finally found what she was looking for.

"Now..." she muttered, hitting a key.

The Mirrormist rocked wildly again and Quistis almost dropped her laptop. Only quick reflexes prevented it from smashing on the floor. For a moment static buzzed on her screen, before the blips came back.

"Computer, report!" she yelled.

Back Shield battery hit. Recharging. Currently at twenty-three percent. Tail exposed. Repairs commencing.

"Damn," she said in response. "Computer, increase speed."

Maximum speed. Fuel is at fifty-seven percent. Shield power is at thirty percent.

"Location."

Forty-nine percent of journey complete. Over Fisherman's Horizon.

Quistis snarled in concentration and her fingers danced frenziedly across the keyboard. DROIDS 45/8A56 DISABLE PORTS A3#094/ DO NOT RESPOND AFTER COMMAND IS CARRIED OUT/ SELF DESTRUCT ONE MINUTES/ PASSCODE 7972 TREPE OVERRIDE/

SEND ?

She jabbed at the enter key and switched on the intercom again. "Computer, monitor all verbal communication and send them to me, but no outgoing calls."

Understood.

She repeated the commands, with varying changes to the numbers of the droids. Otherwise the code was quite identical. She sat back and smiled as panicked shouts of 'Damnit! My sensors are going berserk!', 'Captain! I can't see Trepe anywhere!' , 'She's off my screen, darn it! The Prez gonna have my skin for this!' and 'Captain, my utility droids are running wild!' came through the intercom.

She reached forward and thoughtfully thumbed on her mike. "Security, you might like to know that those droids of yours will explode in approximately thirty seconds. Starting from now. Out, Trepe."

She switched off her mike and watched as a medley of curses and swear words came over the radio. The pursuing planes shuddered as a ball of fire swept through the tail ends where the droids were usually kept, including the engines. Quistis smiled as she blazed away, leaving the Estharians to deal with their new problems.

"Home sweet home," she sighed happily. "Status?"

Repairs fifty percent complete. Shields eighty-nine percent recharged.

"How long more to Balamb?"

From my mark. Mark. Ten minutes and five seconds.

She grinned and settled down into the chair, closing her eyes for a quick nap. "When it's down to five minutes, de-activate camouflage mode. Inform me if the enemy resumes pursuit and when we arrive at the Garden."

Understood. Assessing...

(At Balamb Garden)

"What the...?"

"It's a Estharian plane. Inform the Headmistress."

"Yes, sir." The technician ran away.

The SeeD motioned to his companions. "Let's give the Mirrormist a friendly welcoming reception. Just in case." The pilots laughed and climbed into their assorted crafts. They fired up and ringed around the black plane. The SeeD flight commander called, "Ragnorak B5-089 to unknown aircraft. Please identify yourself."

"Or what? You'll blow me out of the sky? This is Quistis Trepe, you morons! Now clear off so I can land," an extremely familiar voice replied irritably.

The commander was taken aback. "Headmistress Trepe?" he stammered. "I apologize ... we had no idea. You heard her, lads! Move back."

The Mirrormist touched down in the hangar, and the smaller Ragnoraks rearranged themselves around it. By the time the SeeD pilots had alighted, Quistis was standing in front of the Mirror, all traces of levity gone. "I need to see Headmistress Xu Fraden. Is she in her office?" she demanded, striding past the stunned flight crew.

"She's on her way here, Headmistress," the commander replied.

"Good," she murmured. "And I am no longer Headmistress," she added. "So you may desist with that title."

The pilots goggled at her with looks of shock on their faces. At that moment, Xu came bursting in, with three people running behind her. Her face lit up. "Quistis! What are you doing here!" she exclaimed, rushing up. For a moment, she flung her arms right, ready to crush her longtime friend in a hug, then remembered where she was.

"I suppose it can be summed up in, 'We need to save the world Again.'" Quistis said dryly. She stopped short as she spotted the Kinneas family, minus Ivan, gathered next to Xu. "What are THEY are doing here? I thought the meeting doesn't start until next week?"

Selphie looked unusually dispirited, all her usual energy all drained out of her. "We came to ask for help, Quistis. And shouldn't you be at Esthar Garden?"

Xu closed her eyes and groaned. "First it's Trabia, now it's Esthar. I haven't got that many resources, and the majority of my untrained cadets and experienced instructors are involved in Coruthary. I'm afraid, Selph," she said gently, "You'll have to wait until they get back. I myself have barely enough troops to defend the Balamb continent."

"What is it? You look...terrible, Selph," Quistis said in alarm.

Irvine and Lisa looked terrible, too. They all had massive eye bags, pale skin, and bore an expression of fear and sadness. Slowly Quistis began to assemble the pieces together.

"Hyne," she said in horror, "Don't tell me it has something to do with Ivan."

Irvine gazed at Quistis, a bitter smile on his lips. "Gee, Quistis. However did you guess?" He fell into a broody silence, and his daughter took up the thread of the story. She told Quistis everything.

"What can we do?" Quistis asked hopelessly.

Lisa rubbed her eyes. They were red around the rims. "What can we do?" she repeated cynically. "Nothing."

Author's Ending Note: I know you're thinking: What a pathetic ending. Can you sense the number of times I ran into writer's block here? I kept running out of technical terms, cause I know zilch about planes. I made everything up and it shows painfully. UGH. Please inform me if the whole plane chase thing actually made sense or not. I reread it and it doesn't seem exciting enough but I've got no idea how to improve it. Sorry for the lack of Sephy goodness in this chapter, but it's getting late and I have to shut down soon. Thanks for the 15 reviews, readers! This is the first time I've got so many for a single chapter. Of course, that could be because that is the first chapter I worked so hard on. See you next time.

Signing out,

Travithian Axile

Thanks to:

Anasazi Darkmoon: Thanks for the info on Sephy's wing and Kadowaki. And the compliment.

Zack M. Strith: What is?

Mifurey: Just popped into your profile. You haven't updated!

Noacat: Well, yeah, of course...

Seraph Paladin: Well, I'm on Disc 3. Again. Final Fantasy VIII totally rocks!

O.o: (evil grin) Well, you'll just have to wait some more.

kleptomaniac0: Thank you! You're right, I just lost my notebook which roughly details out my plot so know I'm just running on impromptu ideas and old plot stuff. Heh heh. In fact, I'm still trying to agree with myself what comes next after Seph runs into Jenova. Which is one of the reasons why I wrote this chapter first.

Hikari-Remix: Yes, yes, no, YES! I have already visualized that part...and...er...Seph will be forced into extremely uncomfortable circumstances! BWAHAHAHA! There is nothing in the world more satisfying like torturing our fav silver-haired villain...if only in imagination...

Nodmanmatt: Just don't come after me with a pitchfork after you read this...(backs nervously away.) And the killing part is unintentional.

Hopeful Wings: Who ever heard of killing people with cliffhangers? Seems to work as effectively as a knife or two...huh...

TheWyldeWestWynd: Sounds like Seph all right. He may be the One-Winged Angel, with the seriously amazing Masamune, but the POWER OF THE PEN always PREVAILS! (evil grin again)

tetraflash777: I'm not sure, because I never got to see any of Seph's moves. I just kept casting Knights of the Round again and again until he died. Sorry, Seph.

goldmonkey: Nah, she didn't. She just had her ass severely kicked and decided to hightail it back to the FF8 world. I guess this is kind of an AU fic.


	18. 17: Friend Or Foe

A Word From The Author:14/3/06: OK…this is my attempt to re-edit my story and hopefully fill in some of the plot holes. Sigh…

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**FINAL FANTASY VII:**

**THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:**

**FRIEND OR FOE**

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Meanwhile, oblivious to the drama taking place over their heads, Ivan Kinneas skillfully maneuvered the Ragnarok, if he could just know it, into the landing pad Quistis' Mirrormist had just vacated. Shutting down the engines, he turned to his passenger with a sympathetic smile. "You alright, pal?"

Arne nodded silently. His face was slightly greenish under his tan, and usually Ivan—or whoever accompanied Arne on a flight trip—would have taken the opportunity to tease him about his slight phobia. But, ever sensitive to his firend's grief, Ivan desisted. "C'mon, let's get outta here. I swear I'm melting." Gently he took Arne's arm when it seemed that the young captain would continue sitting there until the sun went down. Stirred to action, Arne managed a weak smile and clambered clumsily out of his chair. The two walked down the ramp to be confronted with extremely forbidding-looking guards and the wrong ends of several gleaming, triple-barreled guns.

"Whoa!" Ivan blurted out at the sight. "What did we do, barge into the Inquisition?"

The guards lowered their guns as he frantically held up his hands in a 'peace!" sign. After a moment of silent glances, the guy who was clearly the leader (his uniform was covered with more patches and medals than the others) stepped forward. He removed his helmet to reveal a youngish face with dark eyes and short brown hair. "Welcome to Esthar. I apologize for our presumptuous behavior." The man lowered his voice. "This is a matter of national security, and I trust that you gentlemen will not take offence."

Ivan and Arne looked at each other, puzzled. Since when had Esthar relied on armed soldiers to keep the peace?

Right, since Laguna had died, Arne thought with a pang.

One of the soldiers spoke quietly with his commander for a few minutes, and when the man turned back, there was a friendly smile on his face. "The new President of Esthar calls you his honored guests and would be pleased to invite you into his residence for the duration of your stay." He bowed slightly as he spoke.

Ivan looked at Arne again, who shrugged, though his eyes held a shadow of painful memories. When Laguna had been in office, the Palace had been open to all his family members. "Sure, why not," the young captain said. "I'd like to speak with President Mardon regarding my grandfather's murder."

The guard nodded in acknowledgement. "Very good, sir. Do you require our aid in moving your luggage?"

"We don't have any," Ivan said, with a sharp glance at the man. "We aren't planning on staying for very long."

Again there was that silent communication between the members of the squad, and Ivan felt a stab of unease. It was not dispelled by the guard's smile as he said, "Follow me, then. I'd be honored to escort you to the Presidential Palace."

"Oh, we know the way, we wouldn't want to impose on you—" Arne began, but the squad leader was already walking away. Arne looked troubled, and he shared another worried look with his companion before following. Ivan fell into step behind him, uneasily aware of the heavily armed guards behind him and their intense scrutiny.

There was an even bigger entourage waiting for them at the doors of the Palace. The two young men had scarcely stepped indoors before they were overwhelmed by an overload of sensation and noise as a group of servants swooped down on them and began clucking over their deplorable state. The guard leader, his duty done, clicked his heels and saluted before departing as Arne and Ivan were swept away by the waves of servants.

After firmly convincing them that they were tired and needed rest, Arne and Ivan were escorted to their rooms in the left wing. It was richly furnished, with lace curtains, silk overhangings bearing the Esthar crest, and a huge four-poster bed. A fluffy wool carpet warmed Arne's bare feet as he removed his boots and coat with a sigh of contentment. Ivan grinned at him from his room, where he had made himself at home in an equally comfortable manner. Skeiz had thoughtfully picked out joined rooms for them.

Arne rose from the bed and padded next door, where he joined his friend. "Thanks for coming with me, Ivan." He hesitated, not knowing what else to say.

"It's cool, Arne." Ivan threw an arm over his friend's shoulders with a bright smile. "Otherwise I'd be stuck at Trabia helping my sister hang up confetti. 'Sides, anything for a pal of mine."

He paused, put his lips close to Arne's ear. "Hey, noticed anything fishy?" he whispered.

Arne nodded slightly, whispered back. "They aren't wearing the Esthar crest, but some kind of raven and thorn thing. Skeiz's personal insignia?"

"If so, that means that Skeiz has been replacing all the old personnel with his own flunkies," Ivan murmured grimly. "If push comes to shove, no one here is going to help us, Arne. They're all in Skeiz's pocket."

"You think Skeiz is going to be trouble?" Arne looked anxious. "Why would he want to do anything to us? Balamb is Esthar's traditional ally. Surely Mardon isn't **that **dumb…"

Ivan grunted. "Some people would do anything for power," he said cynically. "And you've got to wonder how come they haven't caught the assassin yet." He gave Arne a meaningful look. "Mardon doesn't trust anyone but his own people, Arne. Paranoid leaders make good dictators. I think we're in some trouble."

Arne grimaced. "Marched right into the lion's den?" he muttered.

"We'll just have to keep our eyes peeled," was Ivan's quick reply. "I think it's best if we don't even wait until morning to leave. We'll clear out when you have a talk with the President. There's a political storm brewing in Esthar, and I don't want to be in the thick of it when it breaks."

Arne was about to reply when a knock sounded on the Ivan's door. Arne jumped up and pressed the silver button set on the wall. A butler in a stiff white-collar and black-tie ensemble stood outside holding a silver tray with a white napkin, a lilac envelope, and a small plate of edibles. "From the master," the butler said in a polite tone that somehow managed to convey his displeasure at the young man's scruffy attire. Arne thanked him and thumbed him when he departed. Carrying the platter, Arne set it on the desk and plucked the card out. It was very fancy, trimmed with a gold border set on a creamy background. Jet black words printed attractively in cursive proclaimed: **_You Have Been Invited…_**

"What's that?" Ivan poked his head over Arne's shoulder. "_**You Have Been Invited to dinner with the President tonight at nine o'clock in the Grand Ballroom. A talented cabaret has been specially arranged for your enjoyment and entertainment. Formal dressing is advised. I look forward to your attendance. Yours faithfully, Skeiz Mardon, President of the Republic of Esthar.**"_

"Okay." Arne said, sliding the card back into its envelope. "Why do I have the feeling that Mardon wants to show off for our benefit?"

"A demonstration of his power and wealth," Ivan suggested. He put on a ridiculously chessy, 'classic villain' voice complete with thick accent, "_I have flunkies and am ridiculously powerful! Bow to me or be crushed by my little finger!"_

"Aren't you a one-man show," Arne said humorlessly. "But we'll have to figure out what to do next."

"Sorry," Ivan said, sobering, but not before helping himself to a few cashew nuts. "Well, I don't particularly want to go, but we might risk potentially offending him if we don't attend. Considering the tenacious position we're in, that's bad. And it's not like Skeiz will **poison **us…"

He looked at Arne and was alarmed to see that his friend actually seemed to be considering this.

"Nah," Arne murmured. "He'd probably have guests there to wow them with our presence…and then he'd have to hide the bodies…"

"Jeez, snap out of it," Ivan said, rolling his eyes. "Mardon is not likely to do direct harm to us, definitely not under his own roof. He'd have Trabia and Balamb on him quicker than we can say, "Skeiz Mardon sucks." Relax."

"Do you think he had anything to do with Laguna's murder?" Arne asked suddenly, out of the blue. Ivan stared at him. "Gosh! Can you just say that a little louder so that Mardon can order his guards to put us in prison?" he asked sarcastically.

Arne rubbed his temples. "Your point is made, Ivan." Now speaking sotto voce, Arne continued, "Skeiz is the only one who obviously benefited from Grandfather's death, didn't he? With Laguna removed, he was free to just take one step up—and become top dog of the most wealthy country in the world. And so he has."

"That had occurred to me too," Ivan said soberly. "But I didn't realize that my suspicions could be true until I stepped into Esthar. Look here, buddy." He went over to a window and lifted a curtain. It faced onto a view of Esthar, admittedly not bird's eye, since they were only on the second floor, but it was enough for them to see the black-clothed groups of soldiers standing vigilantly at the back of the palace, all heavily armed. "Those aren't local militia, Arne," Ivan said. "They're soldiers, pure and simple—and they don't look the type to give mercy. Probably SeeDs that Skeiz pulled out of his faction."

"SeeDs don't serve the President," Arne said darkly. "Their first loyalty is to the SeeDs' code and the Garden Master."

"Hey, Arne," Ivan said. The setting sun cast half of his face into shadows, and his eyes glinted in the dying light. "Skeiz **is **the President. He wants to be the Garden Master, he can. It's all about power and getting your way."

Arne scowled. "I hate it when you're right."

Ivan smirked. "I guess you must hate me a lot."

Before Arne could come up with a cutting reply, there was another knock on the door. Ivan mumbled a curse and answered it this time. It was a maid, who had been sent there by the butler to provide suitable evening attire. Ivan took the boxes from her and practically shoved her out of the room.

"Some gentleman you are," Arne drawled. Ivan glared. "Oh, normally I'm quite a gentleman. Some of you must be rubbing off on me," he retorted, opening the boxes he had been given. Inside was a classic black suit with a white collared shirt and a tie plus neatly pressed trousers. The other one sported a dark red smoking jacket and a frilled white shirt. Other packages contained the heavy robes that was the standard attire of the Estharians, trimmed in gold and edged with black fur. Gleaming boots, recently polished, were also offered. Ivan held up a long robe (dark green and with an elaborate design sewn into wide, flowing sleeves) in front of him, examined the mirror and muttered, "I think not."

Arne pawed through the clothes and eventually, mumbling under his breath, selected the tux. It fit perfectly, much to their non-surprise. Ivan took the jacket. Since it was still early, they opted to take a bath first—flying in the Ragnarok for a couple of hours had not improved their smell.

The bathroom was fit for a king—or a president. The walls and floor were black, smooth marble in which small gold chips were embedded throughout. The ceiling was covered with a skillfully painted mural of the everyday scenes in Esthar. Oh, and had he mentioned that the taps were solid gold? Arne got into the enormous bath gingerly, almost as though afraid the huge thing would swallow him, and tried the vast array of taps. In seconds he was covered with bubbles, assailed with perfume, and comfortably settled in warm water that did wonders for his sore body. He closed his eyes, let the grief that had filled him ever since he had heard of Laguna's death drift to the back of his mind. As a captain, times like this to relax were few and far between, and darned if he didn't enjoy this while he could…

_If _certain annoying people didn't get in the way first, that is. Arne awoke groggy from a nap he had never meant to take at the sound of pounding at the door. "Hey, sleeping beauty!" Ivan said jovially from the other side. "It's eight, so get that fat ass of yours moving! Move it, move it!"

Arne snarled silently and made a rude sign in Ivan's direction. "No vulgarities, now!" Ivan said merrily. Reluctantly, Arne dragged himself out of the bath and dried himself. He then put on the garments he had selected with some distaste. The stiff collar chaffed his neck and the tie nearly choked him, but at last he looked presentable when he finally stepped out. Ivan looked dashing in the crimson jacket, which draped over his form like a second skin, and black drainpipe trousers, the bottom of which was tucked into knee-high, flaring boots. "Deigned to grace us with your charming presence at last, Princess?" he asked with a smile.

"Show-off," Arne sniffed and claimed the last pair of boots, similar in design to Ivan's except that they were white and made from soft flayed snow lion-hide. He felt uncomfortable in his new clothes, as though he had been cast into a mold that did not belong to him. Despite his apparent ease, he could tell that Ivan felt the same; he was constantly tugging at his frilled cuffs with an air of disgust.

"You know where the Ballroom is?" he asked.

"Sure," said Arne, who had been exploring the Palace since he was a young boy. "This way, please, sir."

"If only you could be as polite as this more often," Ivan said jokingly,

"Or I'll clobber the back of your head, Captain Wit," Arbe said candidly, dropping his butler tones.

"Or not," Ivan said as though as an afterthought."

They arrived half an hour early, but already the Ballroom had been lavishly decorated. Two long tables, covered with white tablecloths, laden with silver and gold platters and cutlery, lined either side of the massive room. A stage made of transperisteel stood at the front, shaped like a circle and built in a series of steps that expanded from top to bottom. A lone microphone waited the arrival of the speaker. A rich crimson carpet led right from the bronze double doors to the platform. Bouquets of bright, tropical flowers filled the air with a rich scent that was sweet without being choking. The technicians were swarming all over doing a last minute check on the sound system, so Arne and Ivan were greeted by a loud fanfare as they entered. The master technician leaped up and muttered apologies for his crew's delay, and that we won't take up any more of your time, so sorry…

"It's okay," Arne said, somewhat alarmed at this deluge. "You aren't late, we're just early."

The two men sat down in a couple of chairs and looked around the sumptuously appointed ballroom with some admiration and a little unease. If Skeiz had meant to boast the resources and workers he had at his disposal, the ploy was working. This room had to been arranged in only a matter of hours, unless Skeiz had coincidentally been planning a dinner on this day before their arrival.

"Damn," Ivan said. "Esthar's rich, but its wealth isn't forever. What game is Mardon playing?"

"Hell if I know." Arne looked around. "Maybe Quistis will know more. I'm surprised that she hasn't come find us already. Quistis can smell a rat from a mile away."

"Probably too busy," Ivan quipped. Quistis and her workload was an ongoing joke among her friends and acquaintances and a source of admiration among the besotted fans in her fanclub. Arne chuckled in reply, but it did not entirely erase the expression of worry from his face. Surely, if Quistis had something urgent to tell them, she wouldn't have let hell and an army of behemoths get in her way.

"Look," Ivan said at last, seeing that Arne still looked strained. "Try to have fun, okay? Your troubles won't go away, so just push them back and relax for a while. Stressing yourself out isn't going to make things better."

"Hey, you started it by talking business and got me all stressed up," Arne retorted.

"Fine, fine. Let's just talk small now." Ivan held up his hands.

The duo spent the next half hour chatting about irrelevant subjects until nine when the first guests began to drift in. All were dressed in extravagant finery that did justice to the luxury of the Ballroom. Arne and Ivan got up from their chairs as the guests converged on them offering sympathies and expressions of goodwill. Arne kept a fixed smile on his face throughout the insincere condolences. Ivan thought he looked pale. At last, he intervened. "Pardon me, but it seems my friend needs some time to himself," he said politely but firmly. "Thank you for your concern, nonetheless."

At that moment, a new guest entered, eliciting a new flurry of excitement in the group. They willingly deserted Arne, who glanced at Ivan sidelong with a grateful smile. "Thanks for saving me from those vultures," he said in a barely audible tone.

"Well, it looked like you needed some help there," Ivan said. "You owe me another one."

Arne straightened up and glared with mock righteousness. "I _thought _you were too helpful to be true." His expression altered. "Well, look who's here…"

"Mardon," Ivan said with noticeable dislike.

"And Loki," Arne said sharply. "Where's Quistis? Something's **wrong**,****Ivan." He broke off as Loki scanned the room, saw him, and steered his President over. Skeiz Mardon bore a complacent smile and a blossoming black eye. "Wonder who did that?" Arne mused aloud.

He pasted a smile on his face and rose to meet the President. Ivan followed, but more reluctantly. His green eyes were narrowed with annoyance.

"Good to see you, Leonhart," Skeiz said, his penetrating eyes meeting Arne's as he shook his hand. "My guards have informed me that you are here to look into your grandfather's death. I'm truly sorry, boy," he added, angular features softening. "Laguna was a good man, and a good leader. I sometimes wonder if I can be half as successful as he…"

"I'm sure you'll do your best, President," Arne said neutrally.

"Back to business." Mardon said briskly. "We have good news for you, Leonhart."

"You found the murderer?" Ivan blurted out, the expression on his face hovering between incredulity and delight. Loki gave him a sharp glance. Mardon nodded. "Indeed. However, we have not been able to apprehend her. Shortly before both of you arrived, she was able to escape in a stolen Mirrormist, which accounts for the rude nature of your welcome in Esthar."

"Well, who is she?" Arne asked, fists clenched. "Who is it, damnit?"

Loki's hand strayed near his sais. Mardon, however, was unperturbed by Arne's excitement. "I believe you know her very well—and so did the late President." Mardon paused, probably for effect, and his next words sank into Arne's soul like tiny poison-tipped daggers. "Quistis Trepe, the ex-Headmistress of Esthar Garden."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"What rubbish," Arne said, drink tightly clenched in his hand. "What scandalous, lying, **slander**…how can that scumbag look me in the face and say that…trash…"

"Arne," Loki said, a mildly admonishing expression on his face. "But you have to admit, these are extenuating circumstances. She assaulted the President and fled when there was no charge against her. How else can you explain that away?"

Ivan spoke up. "I don't believe that, Calrior. You still haven't told us the nature of the meeting between Quistis and Mardon."

"**President **Mardon, if you would please…" Loki said. "It is a top-secret matter. Even I am unaware of what had transpired. Of course, it is not my place to ask."

Arne got right in Loki's face, jabbing an accusing finger at him. "Oh, I bet!" the young man shouted. "When she left, you got her job, didn't you? Nice and cushy, isn't it? Did you and Mardon strike some kind of deal, huh? Drive Quistis out of Esthar and frame her, and you get her chair!"

Emotions flickered behind Loki's dark eyes as he battled for control. His muscles tensed. "That's not true!" he cried, his iron will cracking slightly enough for Ivan to see that deep within Loki didn't really believe that hype about Quistis either. But Loki was a man of rules, a man who followed, and he believed in his President.

"Neither is the drivel Mardon is spouting!" Arne raged, his voice rising, causing several heads to turn their way. The three of them were standing outside on the balcony, but Ivan couldn't risk Mardon or his paid spies overhearing. He walked up to them, grabbed their heads and banged them together, effectively ceasing their argument. "That's enough from you two thick-skulled morons!" he said coldly. "Arne, you obviously don't care if you get yourself arrested, but I do!" He turned to Loki. "And **you **are being an insensitive jerk, Calrior!"

Somewhat shamefaced, Arne and Loki shook hands in apology. Arne accepted a napkin from a passing waiter and used it to wipe off the liquid that had slopped down his front when Ivan had grabbed him. He gave Ivan a ghostly smile. "That's a few thousand gil gone down the drain, Ivan."

"It doesn't belong to you anyway," Ivan shrugged.

"Exactly my point."

This witty conversation was interrupted by a contrite Loki. "I'm sorry for being an 'insensitive jerk', as Ivan so charmingly put it," he said. "If it helps. Quistis was also a friend of mine. I couldn't believe at first…" he paused. He smiled, unexpectedly. "I do not believe she did the deed, and I hope you will prove that she is innocent, my friends. But Skeiz Mardon is my President and he thinks that Quistis is guilty. In his time of need I cannot be seen to disagree with him or his position might be weakened. I hope you understand."

"Of course, Loki." Arne said, refraining from mentioning that he thought it was extremely likely that Skeiz had 'dunnit' himself. Loki had made a huge concession, and Arne honored him for that. "You'd better go back, I think Skeiz is waving at you."

"Will you be staying the night?" Loki asked, lingering.

"No, we're leaving tonight. Why?" Ivan asked suspiciously.

Loki looked like he wanted to say more, but his President's gesture was becoming more impatient. "I'll talk to you later," he whispered and hurried away. His glass halfway to his lips, Arne frowned unhappily. "I don't like this," he muttered, downing most of the wine in one gulp. "Mardon is keeping too many secrets from us."

"We **must **leave tonight, Arne," Ivan said determinedly. "No matter what."

"Yeah. Pity, our rooms are really nice…" Arne said wistfully, thinking of the soft feather bed.

Ivan laughed. "Now is not the time for that misplaced sense of humor of yours to manifest," he said cheerfully. "It only seems to appear at the oddest times…"

"I'm random, really random," Arne said. "Just ask anybody."

"What did I just say, Arne?" Ivan asked teasingly. Lulling strains of music caught his ears, and he said, "Let's go and watch the show, shall we? When in Esthar…"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Enjoying yourself?" the President asked politely, looming over the duo, who were watching the violinists sleepily. Jerked back into wakefulness, Arne nodded vigorously. "Thank you for your generous invitation, President. I hope that you didn't go to all this trouble just for us…?" His eyes strayed to Loki, standing ominously at Mardon's side. He looked upset over something.

"Oh, it was nothing, Leonhart," Mardon said, showing his white teeth in a dazzling smile. "I could do nothing less for the son of the world's savior." Ivan, listening hard, thought he detected a trace of sarcasm in the man's voice and concealed his scowl. _The snake, _he thought irritably at Skeiz.

So it **was **spur-of-the-moment, Arne thought, worried. Mardon had more loyal sycophants than he had thought. "I really can't express my gratitude adequately, President," he said absently. "Therefore, we'd hate to intrude upon your hospitality any longer. Now that you have successfully solved Laguna's murder—" He could not refrain from biting off the words sharply—"we have no more need to be here. We leave in the hour."

Amusement gleamed in the President's eyes and smile. "I'm afraid that that's not possible."

"What?" Ivan demanded, almost upsetting his drink. Loki refused to meet his eyes. Smiling smugly, Mardon said, "You were not aware? Several insurgents were caught trying to rally a group to leave the city this afternoon. Also, in two days' time there will be an inauguration ceremony to launch"—the man's cold blue eyes bored into Arne's—"the founding of a new nation, Galbadia and Esthar, joined as one." The man paused to let his words sink it. "Till then, no one goes in, and no one goes out."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Author's Ending Note: Finally I've gotten started with my editing. This chapter may clash with other existing chapters, but those will be replaced when I've got more time. Anyway, obviously the thing that's changed is that Ivan will be a prisoner in Esthar instead of in Deling City, which I felt was harder to break into.

Remaining chapter/s to be edited: Chapter 19, Part 1; Chapter 20, Chapter 21, and Chapter 22. See ya guys next time!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..


	19. 18: Reunion

A Word from the Author: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I apologize for the double cliffhangers since some of my reviewers seem to be extremely mad with me. Cheer up! Now I bring to you the fulfillment of the first cliffhanger...YEAH! So, Jenova and Sephy delight coming up!

Chapter Seventeen: Reunion...and it ain't going to be pleasant

"Greetings, my son," the voice said coldly, ringing through the still night air, faintly musical. "So we meet again."

Paralyzed with indecision and a most unfamiliar emotion, Sephiroth froze, his eyes locked to the sorceress' face. His fear was a bitter, iron taste in his mouth, and his feathers fluttered slightly as he trembled, just a little. Around him, Elenor and Keire were still in a tableau of surprise, their eyes skipping from one to another like ping-pong balls. Daniel continued to lie on the ground, head lolling, but Paine was beginning to come to. There was terror in her gray eyes as she stared at Adele, and absently she rubbed at her wound. She gazed at Avine's crumpled body, the blood on Sephiroth's Masamune, and a sick realization erupted on her face.

"Yes," Adele hissed menacingly. "You never did ask Sephiroth about his past, did you?" Sephiroth gulped most uncharacteristically and started shaking his head violently, his eye pleading. Adele maliciously ignored him and proceeded with relish, "How he once killed so many people. He burnt down a town and murdered everyone in it...children, women, men, the innocents... and laughed ... He cast a spell, Meteor, to destroy the Planet. He killed a girl as she knelt praying before an altar. All this and more...what, you don't believe me? Tell them, son." The sorceress stood back and watched the effects of her words on her audience with cruel amusement.

"SHUT UP!" Paine screamed suddenly. "You're lying, damn your tongue. That's not possible. There would have been reports about such an occurrence...and Gaia definitely wasn't destroyed...we would have known..."

Sephiroth hung his head, hiding his face in his long hair. He couldn't bear to look at his 'mother's' face any longer. He heard Adele laugh delightedly, mellifluous laughter spilling forth and mocking him painfully.

"Foolish girl," Adele sneered at her. "What made you think it happened in 'this' world? There's so many universes out there, and we were from one of them. In fact, why don't you ask my son?"

"Sephiroth." Paine turned to face him, but he averted his eyes, his hands curling into fists of agony. He could hear the hesitation and pain in her voice. "Tell me she's a liar. Tell me it isn't true. Please."

"It's true," he said dully, every word cutting his intestines into little pieces. "I'm...a murderer." Guilt assailed him, and he heard Adele crow in triumph. "Come with me, son," she said enticingly, kneeling before him. She stroked his shivering feathers with a perfectly manicured hand. "We can rule this world together, just as we almost managed to do before. But this time, we will succeed! We have the might of armies behind us...willing to fight for us..."

"Get away from him, you witch!" Elenor screamed suddenly, lashing out at Adele with her sword. Before it could reach its target, Adele waved a hand carelessly. There was a flash of bright blue-white light, and both Elenor and Keire froze in place, unable to move. Only their eyes were mobile, filled with anger and helplessness.

Sephiroth started, and turned his head, his eyes darkening with rage. Adele grabbed his face and bent his head so that he gazed into her eyes. "Join me," she said insistently, every word filled with hypnotic power. Her golden eyes flared with amber light, and the youth was drawn to look into their molten depths. He relaxed, ensnared by Adele's charm, and she smiled in affection and satisfaction. The alien cells in his brain responded to their mistress' instigation and burrowed deeper into the tissue, sparking off a chain of chemical activity, duplicating Adele's chain of thoughts and replacing those previously existing in the youth. A dreamy smile floated across his lips and his eyes deadened.

Adele forced her will harder upon her son, smiling more ecstatically than ever. Paine could see that smile from where she lay, her ribs still aching, and she did not like it. The sorceress had discounted her because of her injury. Surely there was a way to turn it to her advantage, she thought desperately. After seeing what Adele had done to her superiors, she doubted that her broadsword would leave any significant damage, if any at all. Helplessly she gritted her teeth, desperately trying to think of some magic that could stop Adele. Unfortunately, the only Guardian she was Junctioned to was Carbuncle, who used defensive magic. Her own power wasn't particularly strong either. Not to mention Adele was a sorceress...

"Are you with me, son?" Adele asked, pulling Sephiroth up as she stood. He inclined his head, his eyes blank. Like Avine, Paine realized in horror. She didn't care what Sephiroth had said, that he had killed people before. What mattered was the present, that he had changed his ways and become good. Her inner sense had a good feeling about Sephiroth, and she trusted her instinct.

"Prove it, then," Adele continued. She gestured flamboyantly at the petrified forms of the instructors, smiling ruthlessly. "Kill them for me. Then we will return together to my lair. I must admit, Sephiroth, that I did not expect to find you here. You must remind me to thank the Planet someday." She laughed again, long and loud. "Now to business, my son. Kill them."

The youth nodded mechanically in answer to Adele's command. He turned and strode towards Keire and Elenor, his face cold and harsh. The trapped instructors visibly strained against their invisible prison, fear and wrath in their gaze. Elenor looked in particular ready to spit on Adele's flawless face and boot her down a convenient doorway to hell. Sephiroth stopped in front of the closest SeeD, who happened to be the yellow-eyed swordswoman. Glassy-eyed and expressionless, he raised his Masmaune in a salute, ready to bring it down in a crashing—and fatal—stroke. Elenor closed her eyes, facial muscles tensing for the blow.

—Sephiroth!!! NO, don't listen to her, she's playing with your mind, Sephiroth, come back to us!—

The swordsman paused in mid-stroke, vaguely puzzled, as the voice of the Planet pounded in his ears, distracting him, trying to reverse the damage Adele had wrought. His Armlet glowed with rich emerald light, reflecting in his eyes and shredding through the sorceress' lies. He shook his head, once, twice, reason beginning to glimmer in his eyes once more.

—Yes, Sephiroth, fight her!— the Planet encouraged its champion fervently.

"Go, Sephiroth! Carry out my wish! I did not say you could stop!" Adele screamed shrilly. She flew to her son's side and touched the side of his face very gently with her fingernails. The youth shuddered imperceptibly, struggling within himself. It was then Adele saw the fiercely shining bracelet adorning his wrist. "Oh, I understand!" she spat out, gazing at the armor with malevolent eyes. "Take the damned Armlet off! Do you understand me, Sephiroth? Remove it NOW!"

Paine watched as the youth warred with himself again, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Ignoring the screaming pain in her side, she pushed herself upright, and focused on Adele. She began to speak the language of the Guardians, squeezing the words through thin lips. As Adele held Sephiroth's gaze with burning eyes, he jerkily began to reach towards the Armlet that powered his link to the distant Planet. His fingers found the catch and closed over it.

(No! What am I doing?! I can't stop I can't stop damn it...) Sephiroth tried to resist Adele's seductive tendrils of manipulation, his last rational thoughts fading in his mind as his brain began to shut down under the onslaught of the alien cells.

/Just sleep.../ Adele crooned.

"Tornado!" Paine shrieked, flinging her hands wide.

The winds tore free from her outstretched fingers, growing in size and velocity. The girl's eyes widened in surprise at the sheer might of her casting. Sand and grass flew into the air, torn from the ground as the swirling tornado blazed a trail towards Adele. Her beautiful features distorted with rage, she retaliated with another spell that sent the monstrous gust howling back towards her. Paine remained as calm as she could under the circumstances and reached out with her mind.

"Portus, gemma advoco tutela ma Carbuncle!" she shouted, and in response a little green furry creature leaped up from a hole in the ground. He visibly quailed before Adele's anger, but mustered up his courage and sprang into the air, rainbow light radiating from a bright red jewel on his forehead. He fell back into his portal, shivering, in relief just as the Tornado struck against Carbuncle's reflective shield. Paine was driven to her knees by the force of her own conjured spell, then as it seemed that the Reflect was about to shatter beneath the strain, the Tornado Dispelled into thin air. Knowing that it was not over yet, Paine braced herself, mouth open to cry out another spell, as Adele advanced on her, eyes flashing. Behind the sorceress, Sephiroth fell to the ground, clutching his head, whimpering occasionally at whatever nightmares attacked him in his worn mind.

The Silence whacked Paine straight on her lips and numbly she stared in dread as Adele began to articulate a spell...possibly the last she would ever hear. In trepidation she grasped her sword and flung it towards Adele, boomerang style, praying that it could at least hit something. Hopefully leave a big ugly scar on that damned perfect face.

No such luck. Paine cursed as the heavy missile crashed with a ring of steel against the sorceress' Protect. Blue-green light cascaded from the wound in the shield's surface before it mended itself. The sword fell uselessly to the ground and the sorceress' spell reached a dramatic climax. "Cado cadere cecidi," she finished, with an air of sinister finality.

Goodbye, Gaia, Paine mentally wished the good ol' blue ball farewell as Adele laughed and released a writhing bal of noxious black energy right at her face. She tried to jump out of the way, but it followed her every movement persistently. She shut her eyes, resolving not to let a single cry escape her and give the sorceress the satisfaction of knowing how badly she was frightened. She could feel the ebony tendrils coming towards her, so close they caressed her skin with a touch as cold as the grave...an odd keening sound filled her ears, and her vision was going...

"Aegis anima adlido letum!" a strong male voice shouted over the sound of the tortured screams. Through the despair and blackness Paine saw Sephiroth. He was on his feet again, and though stooped over, his voice was purposeful and filled with strength and authority. "Adesdum, avis et lumen!" He tossed what looked like a long, glittering red feather at his feet and it exploded in a burst of roiling fire. Out of the flame the Phoenix emerged, its feathers crimson and gold and in stark contrast to Sephiroth's shadowy wing. The massive bird needed no prompting; one glance at Adele sent her into a fit of hate. The black ball of death dissolved as she inhaled, and Paine, released from the spell, took a step backwards.

Adele flashed a glare at Sephiroth, and as he started to speak again, turned her back on the Phoenix contemptuously. She addressed him, and he sputtered to a halt as his concentration broke. "You may have won now, but the war is far from over. I will see you again, and next time I will be more prepared. For now, farewell."

"Don't run!" the youth snarled, lunging at her.

The Phoenix exhaled, and fire poured from its throat, engulfing Adele. Sephiroth, though invincible against ordinary fire, backed away from the Phoenix's breath as her fire singed his hair and scorched the air. When the bird paused, the sorceress was gone, the only trace of her presence a black charred spot on the sand. Not dead, Sephiroth suspected. Adele would not die that easily. The youth went to the Phoenix and mentally thanked her for her help. The Phoenix graciously bowed her head, then left the mortal plane in another explosion of fire, leaving a tail feather behind, a mark of her favor. Smiling slightly, the youth slid his new feather into his belt and hurried over to examine his friends' condition. His smile faded slightly as he remembered that he had almost killed them. He winced as he realized that they might have cause to hate him forever...and to tell the truth, he wouldn't blame them for their enmity.

Slowly he pointed at Keire and Elenor, who were staring impatiently at him, and intoned, "Resolvo defigo autem...Dispel!" There was a distinct crunching noise as violet spheres formed and surrounded the instructors before vanishing. Elenor, still in the act of leaping, promptly hurtled towards the sand and bumped her knee. Keire tumbled over backwards with a muffled 'omph'. Paine, glancing warily at Sephiroth, walked over and gave Keire a helping hand. When the three were all vertical again (except Daniel, who was still unconscious) they surrounded him, with identical grim expressions on their faces.

"Now, Sephiroth..." Elenor said in her most dangerous voice.

He held up his hands, dropping the Masamune at his feet, and backed away, looking abashed and shamed. "I'm sorry. If you want to put me under arrest...execute me...expel me...whatever. I understand." He lowered his gaze to his feet, feeling as though someone had stomped over his heart a few dozen times. Here he was, on the verge of finally being accepted by his peers, and Adele had ruined everything. He was an outcast all over again. He sighed and said again, very sincerely, "I'm so sorry."

"Wait," Elenor said sharply. "No one said anything about expulsion, much less decapitation. I believe there's something else going on here we don't know about. Something big. You should have told us the truth, Sephiroth. We would have tried to help you."

The youth raised his face, looking disbelieving this time, but hope began to light up in his eyes. "I..." he stuttered.

Elenor held up a quelling hand. "Later, we have to return to Garden first. Then you can tell Xu and the committee what you know. Everything." She leveled her gaze at him. "The only reason I'm not holding you at swordpoint right now is because I believe in you. And you had better not betray that trust, or you'll be entering Garden in a body bag."

Sephiroth nodded, relieved at his respite and all too accustomed to Elenor's blunt way of speaking. The instructor was about to speak again when she was interrupted by the sound of gunfire and panicked screams. She spun around, hand going to her rapier. Everyone gazed in the direction of the noise, back towards Coruthary, orange flashes visible and growing nearer.

"What's going on?" Keire muttered, frowning. "The squads should have infiltrated Coruthary by now and made contact with the leaders..."

As if in answer to his question, a group of blue-clad SeeDs and cadets came into view, bullets striking against their Protects in a shower of magical sparks. As they watched, dumbfounded, one shield failed suddenly and a bullet hit home, spraying the air with dark red blood. The victim stumbled and fell headlong in the sand, never to rise again. The remaining fifteen continued sprinting, though one or two lagged behind, occasionally turning to spray the unseen enemy with a barrage of bullets.

"Why don't they call their Guardians?" Paine wondered. "At least one should be Junctioned..."

Elenor frowned, and raised her arms, rapier raised upwards. Guttural words spilled out of her mouth, and there was a flare of blue, icy light in the air between her erect limbs. The woman gasped suddenly, her features contorting. She strained clearly, tendons and sinews standing out on her neck and arms, then an echoing cry sounded, and faded away. The light flashed feebly, then winked out of existence. Elenor lurched as the spell went on the blink. "That's why," she spat out raggedly. "The Galbadians must have activated the damned Sting."

"We'll have to save them!" Paine said urgently, pointing at their fleeing comrades.

Sephiroth turned to her. "Give me one of your guns, Paine," he said hastily. The girl looked at him for a moment, then nodded solemnly and extended her left hand. The silver-haired youth grasped the offered weapon in his hand. It was cold and solid and deadly. He sheathed his Masamune and looked towards the sky.

"Is it fully loaded?" He asked, not looking at them.

"With Pulse Ammo, though I used up some earlier in the Galbadian camp," she replied. "I suppose you need spares?"

Sephiroth counted the bullets still in the pistol and snapped the compartment shut. "No," he said shortly. "This is satisfactory. Save them for yourself."

"What are you thinking?" Keire demanded.

Sephiroth glanced at him and sighed. "A distraction," he answered simply. "You will know when and what to do when the time comes." He flexed his wing, folding and unfurling it. He had not had time to adapt to the extra weight of the appendage on his back, but he would have to make do. The muscles from his wing were rusty from disuse, and he flapped it experimentally. He felt different in sorcerer form in this world. Here, he could feel a deep connection to the earth he stood upon, the air, the dried up plants curled close to the sand. Each was unique, and throbbed with its own special magic. He drew upon it, and felt a surge of power warm his body. It was wonderful, like receiving a blessing from the living creatures of the earth.

He rose into the air, doing a flip just for the sheer euphoria of flying, free and unfettered. The lack of another wing did not affect his flying skills. The air rushed against his face as he soared straight up to gain air space, then he tucked his wing close and glided smoothly over the heads of his earth-bound companions. Close on the prey's heels were the hunters, a whole squadron, all big and brawny and armed with nasty-looking machine guns. He hovered just above them, cocking Paine's pistol and sighting his target, drawing the Masamune with another. He normally disliked using guns, but he needed a long-range weapon for what he was about to do.

The Galbadians had not noticed him yet. He narrowed his eyes and pulled back on the trigger. The unmistakable crack whipped through the air, and as one the Galbadians glanced up automatically. For his victim, it was already too late; even as he looked, he was staggering, then he was lying still in the dust. The boots of his own comrades pounded into him as they skidded to a stop. They were pointing at the black-winged figure and yelling.

He grinned wickedly in response, knowing that he was a disturbing sight. Eyes glowing with demonic fire, his hair lifted off his shoulders by a mysterious wind. He fired again, every shot viciously accurate and ripping through the bodies of the men so fast that they were still in mid-motion before their brains realized that they were dead. In a matter of minutes they were reduced to half their number and Sephiroth was out of bullets. The hunters had become the hunted; the SeeDs had turned back and were bearing upon their foe, triumphantly flashing swords, daggers, whips and rifles. The trapped Galbadians reversed directions and fled from the face of death. Only a few were brave—or foolish—to stand their ground against the onrushing SeeDs, all enraged and seeking retribution for the death of their comrades. They were pulverized instantly by the onrushing tide. Sephiroth smiled grimly and tucked the pistol in his belt, unsheathing the Masamune.

He headed towards the ground to join in the battle just as his squad came barreling up. The more excitable Keire was whooping, his gunblade tracing arcs in the air. Paine stood from afar, picking off Galbadians with her remaining gun and standing guard over Daniel. Her partner landed next to her and returned her weapon. She winked at him and flashed a thumbs-up. He repeated the universal gesture and raced past her into the thick of battle. The Galbadians had stopped running and were trying to make a stand. Fiercely, desperately, like only cornered rats could. Another cadet plunged down, staining the ground crimson with the contents of her insides. Her murderer slipped in the intestines that spilled forth and was promptly cut down by an angry cadet.

Sephiroth touched down and immediately started fighting. The bloodlust that was never far from his mind poured through his veins, excited by the pungent stench of blood and the hostility and hate rampant in the atmosphere. The tough Galbadian armor was no match for the powerful Masamune, and they fell before him like leaves before a wind. Heartened, the SeeDs fought with renewed vigor, and in a matter of time the enemy was decimated. Save one, whom the instructors bound and Silenced for interrogation in Balamb Garden. The twenty survivors of the disastrous mission retrieved their fallen comrades and arranged them reverently in a row. They had no time to bury them, so the instructors decided on cremation. Deckard Proeliator, the highest ranking among the instructors, bowed his head as the SeeDs gathered somberly around him.

Quietly he said, "Brave warriors who have died courageously in battle, may Hyne watch over your souls, and guide your passage into Heaven. Let us burn your mortal shells, you who have no need for them any longer, and set free your spirits to soar unbound into the sky. Rest in peace."

Face pale, Elenor came forward and aimed her fingers at the line of dead SeeDs and cadets. Were it not for the pale gleam of exposed bone and the blood, they could almost be asleep. She closed her eyes and whispered the beginnings of the spell. "Immolatus infernato incantem ardesco impetrtive!" As she spoke, orange light kindled and erupted forth, spilling all over the assembled bodies. They burnt, the sickly sweet smell of cooked flesh filling the air. Here and there a cadet or instructor wept for the loss of friend, lover, or relative. Sephiroth stood awkwardly, feeling like an intruder that had imposed upon the sobbing SeeDs. The dead were strangers to him; it was hard to mourn for someone whom he did not know, and he felt vaguely guilty for not feeling more over the deaths.

As the final corpse disintegrated into black, greasy ash, Proeliator wiped at his suspiciously moist eyes and said in a shaking voice, "And now, fly high, and be free of the mortal constraints of the living. We do not bid you farewell, in the hopes that we will meet you once again in the paradise that comes after death..." His voice faltered and shook, dying in his throat. Brusquely, in a tone that was still hoarse with grief, he snapped out orders and got the survivors moving. Elenor jogged to catch up with him and asked in a hushed voice that Sephiroth picked up, "Do you think the ships will still be intact?"

"The Mirrormists still guard them," Proeliator returned in a subdued timbre.

"The Galbadians are adequately armed as well," Elenor replied softly.

Proeliator let out a humorless bark of bitter laughter. "I don't honestly know, Elenor. I just hope, that's all. And, damn it, haven't we suffered enough for one day?"

Elenor touched his arm once and withdrew silently. The beach came into view soon after, but it was very much different than the state it had been in when they had first left it. The sand was decorated with strips of wreckage, twisted metal, the smoking carcasses of damaged Mirrormists that had obviously crashed to earth and was blackened in several places. A few bodies were littered about, half-scorched and in fetal positions. However, the SeeD ships were, surprisingly, mostly in good condition, other than being soot-streaked and more battered than before. One, however, was busted beyond repair. It listed sideways in the sea, water pouring through half a dozen cracks in its armor. Elenor was pleased. It appeared that the Balamb Mirrormists had been successful in repelling the Galbadian forces.

Proeliator gestured at his remaining forces, asking them to try identifying the bodies. Only one of them was recognized to be a Balamb SeeD, but there could be others trapped beneath the ruin around them. Elenor walked up to the older instructor, frowning. "My radio's broken. Have you tried yours?"

Proeliator grunted. "No use. The Galbadians have established radio silence all over Galbadia and Coruthary." He started as one cadet pointed at the sky and shouted, "Approaching planes!" One thought flashed through everyone's minds: friend or foe? They tensed, drawing their weapons and preparing themselves for battle. A girl almost cried in relief as the Mirrormists came close enough to be identified. The insignia of Balamb Garden shone clearly on the black metal. One of the Mirrormists was missing; there was a noticeable gap in their formation. The Mirrormist at the head, the leader, spiraled down, and the SeeDs scrambled backwards to clear a space for the warplane. The ramp hissed down moments later, and an instructor walked out, his features a study in delight.

"I can't believe it!' he exclaimed, looking as though he had no idea whether to burst into tears of laughter. "I thought...frankly I thought you were all dead. My boys convinced me to stick around, though, and I'm glad I did."

"Isn't Frank the Wing Commander?" Keire asked curiously, pushing his way to the front.

The SeeD's smile slipped off his face. "He was. I was the next ranking, so I took over temporarily."

"Oh," Keire said inaudibly, his face falling.

Proeliator looked at the remaining SeeDs under his command, and thought of how they had looked when they had left home two days before, filled with life and vitality, laughing and joking. They had faced war, and now they were changed. They had seen what war truly was; a thief that stole the magnificence, the dignity from Death. They were the strong who had survived the clutches of war , and as a result, something had been taken from them. They were adults in children's bodies, responsible for keeping safe those who had not yet lost their innocence. In a way, they were safeguarding the purity of the people.

Sephiroth was thinking something along the same lines. He was thinking about the first time he had killed. He had been nine years old, pumped up full of Mako and Jenova cells, filled with insanity. They had locked him in a plexiglass prison and dumped in a hapless guard, who had fired round after round into him but failed to stop him. He had leaped onto the man like a demon and ripped him apart. Afterwards, when the drugs had bled out of his system, he had been appalled, and regretful. He had hated himself for the longest time. His innocence had been tarnished for so long that he had only a blurry memory of what those days felt like and a vague, but powerful, longing for those times. What about these SeeDs, then? They had been children longer than he had, had the luxury of being unsullied. What did it feel to them to have that sense of security ripped away, to have experienced all those feelings associated with war: terror, revenge, sorrow, rage, abhorrence? It made the loss all the more precious and heart-wrenching.

The newly-appointed Wing Commander said soberly, "Let's go home."

............................................................................................................

The sad remnants of the SeeD force drifted home, arriving the next day in the gray twilight. It seemed oddly appropriate for the SeeDs to return at this hour, just at the edge of light's end and the night's beginning. Beaten and exhausted, they stumbled out at the harbor, while the Mirrormists zoomed on. The owner of the car rental took one look at the SeeDs, white with tears and soreness, and at once offered to drive them back. They accepted his kind offer gratefully, well aware that they were unfit to drive in their condition. They would probably end up driving into the forest. He and his wife drove the SeeDs back to the Garden five at a time. The instructors left first so that Xu could receive a complete report of the mission's events, and the cadets

Sephiroth curled up on a bench in the garage, knees pulled up to his chest, while the others followed his example or milled around, still bearing expressions of shock, speaking to each other in hushed voices. Paine sat down next to him, wearing a look he couldn't quite decipher. She appeared oddly agitated, fidgeting madly and tugging at a lock of hair.

"What is it?" he asked at last, when it became clear that Paine wanted to tell him something but couldn't quite gather the courage to say it aloud.

She glanced sidelong at him, now nibbling on her lower lip. Her eyes were disturbingly large in her pale face, and even her lips seemed devoid of color. Her hands fisted themselves in her lap. Choking off a sob, she smiled wanly. "However did you guess? That's true. I...just noticed something. I can't tell the instructors for several reasons. They..." She snuffled again. "It's a curse," she said at length.

Sephiroth was alarmed. She sounded in despair and hopeless. He leaned over and gently, gingerly laid his fingers on her shoulder. She put her hand on his and intertwined their fingers together. She steeled herself, took a breath, and said, "Don't tell anybody, okay? Please. Not...not until I'm ready."

"Of course. I promise," he said sincerely, now extremely concerned at her panicky demeanor. Paine had always seemed a calm soul to him. He squeezed her hand a little to reassure her.

She swallowed. "I'm...I'm a..."

At that precise moment, one of the cadets walked over and plopped down next to Paine. The rest of her statement was lost in a small squeak and she jumped up as though she had been burned, disentangling her hand, racing away and huddling in a corner of the garage. The cadet, whose name Sephiroth vaguely remembered as Flick, looked surprised. "What's up with her?' he asked, his tone filled with weariness. He apparently did not expect his question to be answered, for when Sephiroth ignored him and got up to go after Paine, he shrugged and lapsed once more into his own world.

"Paine?" he queried as he neared her. She seemed to be unstable and he didn't want to push her. She deliberately looked anywhere but at him. "I wasn't going to say anything," she said harshly. "It was a mistake. I didn't mean it...just leave me alone, damn you!" The girl dissolved into tears and he stood dumbly for a few seconds before recalling the existence of chivalry. He clumsily put an arm around her and turned her to face him. She sagged into his chest, her tears damping his uniform, and not knowing what else to do, he held her close until the car returned to take them to Garden.

............................................................................................................

"And that concludes my report, Headmistress," Elenor said as she came to an end. Xu nodded tiredly, her thumbs massaging her temples as she looked at Deckard, and the other instructors that had gone on the ill-fated mission to Coruthary. Fully two-thirds of them were missing in action or confirmed dead. And that wasn't even counting the injuries. Two of them were in the infirmary and Fayne was having her arm amputated. It was a disaster, a loss that she could not afford in the coming war. Only twenty out of sixty had returned.

Xu banged her fist on the table. Her instructors flinched. First that business with the Kinneases, then the problem of Skeiz Mardon, now this. The revelation that they had lost three of their greatest allies was a major blow. Trabia, Esthar, Coruthary, defeated by love, corruption and trickery respectively.

They were doomed.

Xu gazed unseeing at the tabletop. A simple mission gone horribly wrong. In a low voice she said, "Dismissed," and silently her subordinates filed out, none looking at her. They probably felt that she had failed them.

Avine, insane, killed by a cadet. Another sorceress, a new threat posed. The other squads, trapped within the city, only a few escaping with their lives. Coruthary, contrary to the message she had received from the Consul, had not been under siege. No, it had been invaded a week prior to the mission. Galbadians, hiding, had exploded out of cover the moment the squads had snuck inside the city and the gates had shut behind them. No place to run, with the Sting operational ( and thus no way to summon the Guardians for help) and vastly outnumbered, it had been a massacre. At last a squad had managed to blow the gates up and escape, and after that they had still been pursued by Galbadian forces and would have all died were it not for the timely intervention of Squad B.

Xu felt very dead beat at the moment. While she had been safe and snug on her backside in her office shuffling papers, her SeeDs had been out there getting killed, all at her behest. The guilt stung deeper than she could have imagined. She rested her head stop her crossed arms, feeling a headache coming on.

There was a timid knocking on her front door, and she clicked open a window. The camera perched discreetly on her door showed her the forms of Sephiroth, Paine and Elenor. All three looked dead on their feet. Xu wondered why Elenor would not let her cadets rest first before coming to speak with her. The whole thing stank of urgency.

Xu slapped a button beneath her desk and the door slid open to admit her visitors. The cadets trooped in, bringing in the fragrant aroma of battle. Xu couldn't help but wince as they left bloodstains on her recently cleaned floor, then mentally admonished herself for thinking about such trivial matters when the fate of Gaia was in the balance.

"They have something to tell you, and yes, it can't wait," Elenor said curtly. "You can start by telling the Headmistress your tale, Sephiroth," she said with a lift of her chin.

"It's a long story," the youth said softly, his eyes glazing over as his eyes looked somewhere in his past.

"I have time," Xu replied.

The youth nodded slightly. "Very well, then. I shall start at the beginning. It all begun before my birth, in another world, in an obscure little town named Nibelheim..."

Enthralled, the other three listened, as Sephiroth spoke, his voice ranging from blandness to anger, to hate, to sorrow, then becoming empty as he mastered himself. They traveled with him from the town of his birth, to the urban city of Midgar, to Wutai, to the Golden Saucer, to the City of the Ancients, and finally to the Northern Crater, where his story had ended only to be reborn in hope. They grieved with him, triumphed with him, empathized with him on the journey of his life. When he finished, they gazed expectantly at him, as though waiting for him to say more. He gazed back, his eyes open wounds filled with bitterness and sadness.

"And that is my story," he said, with an air of finality.

"You're very strong," Xu said after a pause. "I would have gone mad." She winced slightly at her tactlessness.

"I did," Sephiroth said coldly.

"But you found the strength to go on," Elenor joined in unexpectedly. He looked at her with some amazement, then lowered his head. "Thank you," he said in a hushed voice.

"So you're a sorcerer, of sorts," Xu mused. "Ever heard the prophecy?"

Sephiroth shook his head "No. Should I?"

Xu leaned back in her chair and contemplated. "It goes like this. Listen carefully." Adopting a theatrical voice, she intoned, "'I see death and suffering, broken by periods of peace, a mockery of the carnage that is to come. Look to the skies, for it is from there that danger shall descend. The day will come in the future when a sorcerer will save Gaia from the Scourge with the key to the wellspring of energy deep within Gaia for there will be no one else to stop the tragedy as Hyne shall be gone. When he calls, all of Heaven shall hear him, and Hyne himself will come in answer.'" Sephiroth listened intently, absorbing every word into his soul and memorizing it.

"That is certainly intriguing," he said, frowning.

"That's just understating it.," Paine interjected. When Sephiroth looked at her, an eyebrow raised, she blushed and said quickly, "Look, it's true. It's some kind of a requirement that all prophecies must be weird and mysterious and filled with death and keys and whatever frightening stuff. When has there ever been a prediction in which the oracle just nicely explains everything that's gonna happen in the future?"

"That's beside the point right now," Xu muttered, brushing Paine's observation away. "Alright, Sephiroth, I'll take your account under consideration. You are hereby cleared of all charges whatsoever, and you re fit to return to duty."

"Thank you, ma'am," the youth said, grinning lopsidedly.

"What about you?" Xu asked, turning to look at Paine.

"Nowhere near as action-packed, but still good news. I hope," Paine reported. "While I was skulking around the G-Camp looking for Avine, I stumbled upon this major's tent. He came out screaming bloody murder and I killed him. Then, on a hunch, I went in and poked around his stuff a bit, since he no longer needed them. I found this iron box stowed away in a false bottom in his trunk. It must be really important, because it was trapped three times and was rigged to throw acid, fire and lightning in that order if you didn't know the proper way to open it. Anyway, to make a long story short, I figured the combination and found the box. I froze the lock with an Ice spell and smashed it. That set off an alarm, but no one notices that in the middle of a battle. I seized the papers inside, flipped through them a bit, hid them in my shirt, and hightailed it out of there back to the leader."

"May I?" Xu asked, holding out a hand.

Paine nodded and reached inside her uniform, pulling out a sheaf of papers. "It's encoded," she went on, slapping them down in front of Xu, "and look at this. Looks familiar, huh?" She extricated a paper from the middle and jabbed a finger at the detailed drawing of a machine.

"The Sting," Elenor said, examining it. "Good work, Falkern. Figure this will stand up to our program, Headmistress?"

"We shall see,' Xu said, cracking her knuckles. "Okay, you cadets have been really helpful and I appreciate it. Get some sleep, you look like you're going to topple over at any moment. Elenor, mind waking Tre and sending her to see me? She's the best in this area."

The cadets and instructor saluted and departed Xu's office. Elenor paused at the door and looked squarely at the older woman. "You should get some sleep yourself, Xu," she said quietly.

"Later," Xu replied dismissively.

"Good night," Elenor said and left, the door shutting behind her with a mechanical swish. Rubbing her eyes, Xu reached for a cup of coffee and resigned herself to a long night.

............................................................................................................

(The next morning...or that is, later that morning...)

"All participants in yesterday's mission, please report to the 2F hallway at once. I repeat, all participants..." the intercom blared.

Sephiroth groaned and pulled the pillow over his face, but the buzzing voice was too loud. Every part of him was sore, particularly the area just behind his shoulder where the wing had burst through. He had discovered that he could retract and summon the wing at will, but both instances were particularly painful.

He pulled himself out of bed and examined himself in the mirror. His room felt empty without Daniel in it, much to his private surprise. He had come to miss the other youth's friendly chatter. But the only boy was still in the infirmary recovering.

He looked terrible; that was the only word for it. His hair was a tangled crow's nest, dark circles decorated his eyes, and his skin was a mess of angry, half-healed scars and rainbow-colored bruises. In time the marks would disappear, but for now he looked as though some maniac child with a sugar high and a huge box of crayons had been set loose on him. He found a comb, dragged it through his hair before it broke into two, and resorted to flattening his hair with water. After dressing, he forced his aching body to walk out and take the elevator to the second floor. The other cadets, sprawled carelessly in the floor, looked and felt just as bad as he did. After yesterday, most of them just wanted to lie in their beds and sleep forever.

A Garden faculty member arrived and they listlessly looked at him, trying to muster up some anticipation but too tired to do so. He held a very short list in his hands and said, "Due to the circumstances, only five will be allowed to pass this test. The results are: Squad B, Sephiroth, and Paine Falkern."

Paine managed a half-hearted cheer. Sephiroth just closed his eyes and visualized the agonizing journey back to his bed.

"Squad D: Flick Orioynt." The brown-haired boy who had sat next to Paine in the garage smiled , but it looked forced.

"Squad E: Kerry Maclaw and Gloria Madison." The two squad members perked up and high-fived each other. The Garden Faculty member nodded at the five new SeeDs and said, "Follow me to the Headmistress' office to receive your certificates. The SeeD Graduation Ball is to proceed as planned. Wear your new uniforms; they will be delivered this afternoon to your dorm." For a moment, his craggy features softened as he looked at the bone-weary SeeDs, then he left, heading down the corridor.

"Isn't it a little unfair?" Gloria voiced the question in the their heads. "we all worked and suffered so hard...and still some don't get chosen?"

"Headmistress Fraden probably has a reason for it," Kerry said diplomatically. There was a moment of silence, then the SeeDs and cadets filed out. The SeeDs headed towards the administrative section towards Xu's office. She was standing by the window, her hands clasped behind her back, as they entered, assembling themselves in a row before her. She looked at them sadly, her eyes probably imagining the five others who should have bee here with them excitedly, proud to be a member of an elite force.

"You have made it to SeeD," she said after a brief pause. "Our mission is to kill the sorceresses." Paine flinched a little next to Sephiroth; he glanced at her, figuring she was remembering Avine's gruesome death. "Congratulations, SeeDs. Always remember; uphold our qualities: honor, courage and justice. Carry out your duties well. Sephiroth."

The youth walked up and she placed a scroll in his hand. She said to him, "If you choose to stay here when your quest is done, we will always have a place for you."

"Thanks," he said in a whisper.

One by one the others came up to receive their scrolls and some words of advice from the Headmistress. When the five had collected their scrolls, Xu dismissed them. Sephiroth walked with Paine, who practically tore off the red ribbon as soon as she stepped out of the door in a hurry to see what rank she had landed. Her companion calmly untied the ribbon as she unrolled her scroll and scanned it. "Full points for judgment!" she declared happily. "SeeD rank 7. Not bad, really. How about you?"

In answer Sephiroth handed it over for her to read. She gasped in admiration. "Cool! I wouldn't have expected less. You were so wonderful during the whole mission."

Sephiroth grunted. "I don't feel I deserve rank 10," he said moodily, stuffing the scroll in his pocket. "I made loads of mistakes too."

"No one can be perfect, Sephiroth," Paine chided gently. They turned down the path leading to the dormitories and she paused at the junction to the girls' dorms. "See you tonight."

"By the way," Sephiroth said, "what did you want to tell me last night?"

Paine's buoyancy faded a bit. "Why do you keep bringing that up?" For a heartbeat, she paused, then said grudgingly, "Okay. I'll tell you tonight, if I can." She smiled a little but it was clear her heart was not in it. "See you tonight," she said again and tip-toed, kissing him swiftly on the cheek before racing to her room.

Women were strange creatures, Sephiroth thought bemusedly as he continued to his own dorm to prepare for, horror of horrors, the ball.

............................................................................................................

(That night...)

Unlike previous years, this ball had a more somber air, since many of SeeD's members would no longer be present. In memory of the dead, the SeeDs wore some black article or other on their person; a black feather, a sash, a ribbon. Some eyes were red. The couples twirled on the dance floor to the rhythm of sad, flowing music that seemed to echo the own grief many of the SeeDs still felt and would feel forever.

Sephiroth was there with them. He had originally preferred to hide in a shadowy corner for the rest of the night but Paine had other plans. She had virtually dragged him to the middle of the ball room despite his protests. He was astonished to find that the old dance moves he had been taught still came to him easily. As General he had been required to attend many functions and (shudder) dance with the overweight wives of the dignitaries. (He would never forget the time Scarlet had made unwelcome advances towards him. His mind wouldn't let him.) Paine looked pleasantly surprised and commented, "If you can dance that well, why don't you? Waste of your skills."

"Dancing has negative memories associated with it," he said, with a shiver. His mind refused to banish the image of Scarlet, suddenly.

"How's that possible?" Paine asked, confused.

Sephiroth, against his better judgment, related the embarrassing incident to her. When he reached the part where Scarlet's head had landed in the punch bowl, she howled with laughter, dispersing the lingering shadows in her eyes for a while. Wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, she chuckled, "The girls were really climbing over each other to get you, eh?"

"I would rather face a hundred Ruby Dragons alone than go up against rabid fan girls again. Some were male too. That's all I'm saying," Sephiroth replied seriously.

"Well, I don't blame them," Paine said, clutching her ribs. "You're very good-looking, you know. Very unusual coloring."

"Er...thanks," the youth answered, a little uncomfortable with her compliments. Especially when the new song started, a slow, romantic one. She inched closer with every beat and was practically all over him by the end of the song. He had to fight the urge to pull away or Paine might be affronted. After all, maybe he was getting the wrong idea. Or maybe she was. He couldn't tell.

Women were strange creatures, he thought to himself.

At the end, Paine grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the balcony. There was already a couple there who was...er...extremely active and Sephiroth's face heated at some of the more vocal movements. Paine chased them out and the woman shot a murderous look at her as she passed. The girl sat down at one end and motioned for Sephiroth to sit opposite her.

Paine took a deep breath. "Okay, let's try this again. I need to tell you something... You're the only one who could possibly understand my situation. Remember, you promised."

Sephiroth nodded, listening attentively.

Paine held out her hand. "Watch this." She flicked her index finger and thumb together. A blue spark sprang from the contact and a blue flame burned merrily in the air above her hand. She snapped her fingers again and the fire was gone. "Do you know now?" she asked softly.

"Avine's power had to go somewhere after she died," Sephiroth murmured in comprehension.

"Yes, to me." The girl hugged her knees, looking strangely forlorn and alone in the gathering shadows. "No offense, Sephiroth, but all the sorceresses who ever received their powers in history have somehow gone mad one way or another. Look at Avine. Look at Adel, Ultimecia, your 'mother.' Even Rinoa, who is hailed as a heroine, freed Adel from her frozen stasis in space. I don't wanna be like that. Like Avine. Controlled, a puppet, no way to plan her own destiny. But this fricking curse makes possession a reality. Then...SeeD will kill me." She was shaking hard, silent tears pouring gown her face in steady streams. They glistened silver in the ivory moonlight. Sephiroth couldn't bear to see her in such pain and moved forward, embracing her.

"I don't know what to say," he said solemnly, looking into her gray eyes. "I can't say useless words of comfort, because everything you've said is true. Hell. I've experienced it myself. All I can say is, I'm confident you'll prevail. And SeeD is here to lend you our strength. We're your family. And not all sorceresses are evil. Some have been good and contributed to society/ They have been loved and accepted and welcomed. Just because you are a sorceress doesn't necessarily mean you are bound to become bad one day. And if you are ever possessed, do one thing; keep the memory of yourself and all of us who care about you locked somewhere. There are ways to break possession. And as long as there is hope, I...SeeD won't touch you."

She sniffed, her breath warm against his neck. "You're the best."

"Just doing my job," he answered easily, feeling her hands creep forward to touch his shoulders. He smiled at her, beginning to ask solicitously after her condition, then her lips were on his, soft and moist and filled with hunger. He froze, shocked, and taking it as assent she leaned closer, her hands tangling in his hair. He inhaled her scent, like wildflowers and pepper. There was a definite drawback to being a teenager, he realized as his hormones began to rage out of control. He took himself firmly in hand and pulled himself away, breaking the kiss before things could go any further. She stumbled forward a bit and he gently but firmly pushed her back.

"What?" she asked sullenly, her eyes dark with hurt.

"I don't feel that way about you," he said honestly, his heart bleeding for her. "That is, I care about you as a friend, but that's it. I'm not willing to go to the extreme. I'm...I'm sorry, Paine."

His Mako eyes saw painfully well in the darkness, and he saw Paine's eyes well with tears again. He started to apologize, but then she leaped convulsively to her feet and ran away. She moved surprisingly fast; by the time he had gathered his wits and chased after her she had blended into the crowd of people. He leant against a wall, his heart heavy, and hoped that he had not ruined his friendship with Paine. He was upset with himself that he had let Paine interpret his actions wrongly. Having no more heart for the ball, and with good reason, he left the ballroom, refusing several offers to dance on the way, to find the security and quiet of his own room.

............................................................................................................

Author's Ending Note: Whew, it's done at long long last. The Seph/ Jenova battle, the aftermath, even the Grad ball and the promised dance with a girl. All for you readers out there. I hope you have found this new chapter satisfactory and to your liking. Who anticipated that twist in the end? I seem to enjoy torturing my characters a lot. Especially the original ones, since I own them, body AND soul... heh heh heh...(a few random passersby begin to edge away warily and the Authoress comes back to reality with a bump.) Any comments are welcome. Next chapter: Schemes Galore, and the unveiling of the second cliffhanger from the previous chapter . Thanks to putting up with me for so far.

Travithian Axile signing out

Thanks to:

The WyldeWestWind: It's spelt seizure, just to be helpful. Ahem. So, keep tuned for the next cliffhanger dissection.

Anasazi Darkmoon: Yeah, Star Wars was what gave me the idea for the utility droids. In case some law-abiding citizen is reading this...Star Wars is the official property of George Lucas, and I don't own a single piece of it. There.

Zack M. Strith: Couldn't you be more like your namesake and be more voluble? No offense intended.

emeralddrake: Here you go.

nekochan: Cool, Artemis fan! You gotta love him. Vampire smile and all.

Hikari-Remix: AND I made him dance with Scarlet in the past and get seduced. (An evil snicker and the sound of a traumatized Sephiroth crying is heard) Say, now I've got an idea for a one-shot fic. Involving you-know-what. Watch out for it in case I decide to write it one day.

tetraflash777: It's your opinion. More Quistis next chapter, though.


	20. 19: Schemes Galore

A Word from the Author: Hey, I'm back again! Which one of you actually read my side story? Hands up if you did! If your hand is down, here's the link: TIAL: A Little Drink Can't Hurt…Can It/ Thank you. Back to the story. I understand that some reviewers are alternatively sorry for Paine/ want a Sephiroth /Paine pairing. Well, sorry, I already decided from the moment I sat down at the keyboard and started typing the prologue that I wouldn't write any pairings. I don't do romance; I'm uncomfortable with it. Writing already married couples are easily but not a couple of youngsters pursuing love. Sorry if any of the readers out there mind. Now let's get the show on the road!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….…

**FINAL FANTASY VII:**

**THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT**

**CHAPTER NINETEEN:**

**SCHEMES GALORE**

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….…

(Back to Esthar, the Presidential Palace)

Loki Calrior hung back, waiting as the hulking guard rapped on the door sharply with the knuckles of his fist. It opened to admit him, and Calrior stepped in, keeping a bland expression on his face, though inwardly he was dead curious about the President's summons in the middle of the night.

Skeiz was seated at his desk, glowering at the wood as though determined to burn a hole through. He affected a smile as Calrior entered, though it was clear his mind was on other matters. The smile faded quickly. Calrior folded his body into the room's only empty chair without question, fixing the President with an enquiring gaze. He was a short, slender man, with dark eyes tilted up at the corners and short brown hair with a buzz cut. He was also a SeeD who had graduated with honors last year and was the top of his class. Calrior could only assume that the President wanted him to perform some operation or whatever.

"Listen carefully," Skeiz said without preamble. He had a flat, angry expression on his face, and there was a darkening bruise under his left eye. Loki thought it best if he kept his mouth shut for the moment. "I'm promoting you to Headmaster of the Garden."

Whatever Calrior had been expecting, it wasn't this. He gaped, then regained his composure. "What about Headmistress Trepe, sir?" he asked, disbelieving his ears. Quistis had always been very capable and intelligent. Perfect for the job. What the hell was going on?

"She's a traitor," Skeiz informed him coolly, one hand unconsciously reaching up to touch his bruise. His eyes were frigid, the pale blue of the winter sky. Solid and implacable. "Only a few hours ago she physically assaulted me as well as my bodyguard and stole a Mirrormist. She was able to shake off pursuit and we assume that she is heading back to Balalmb to regroup with her friends."

"Hang on," Calrior said, blinking rapidly, "since when has Balamb been an enemy?" He cringed inwardly as he saw Skeiz's eyes flash with renewed annoyance and impatience. "Have you not been paying attention to recent events?" Skeiz asked pointedly. "Galbadia has reclaimed Coruthary as part of its state following a successful coup during the past few days. An hour ago a group of renegades from Balamb proceeded to attack the city to reclaim it for the Corutharian turncoats. Having attacked Galbadian land without provacation, President Deling has since declared war on Balamb The SeeDs have shown their true colors, man! It is time to act and see that they will never break another treaty again."

When Skeiz was animated like that, his eyes filled with fervor, shining fanatically, his hands waving around enthusiastically. Calrior's heart sank as he looked into those burning eyes. He didn't want to believe, but then why would Skeiz lie to him? Despondently he looked back into his memories, of Quistis teaching him, working with him, all the laughter and parties late into the night. He thought of her, tireless, stern, and yet gentle, and he burnt those memories to ashes and buried them.

"Do you accept your duty…Garden Master?" Skeiz asked him in an oddly gentle voice, a subtle smile playing about his lips as he watched the younger man furrow his brow in thought.

Loki Calrior looked at him, his eyes blank, his face pale but set, and said firmly, "I accept, President Mardon. Thank you for placing your trust in me, of all people."

"Your record was outstanding. I checked myself and my advisors all agreed that you were the right man for the job," Skeiz said cordially, gripping Calrior's proffered hand in a firm handshake. "Welcome to your new post. The ascension will take place tomorrow and your new uniform will be delivered to your doorstep tonight."

Inwardly Loki wondered how Skeiz had known that he would agree. He thanked the President again and was dismissed. Quistis' apparent betrayal bothered him more than he cared to admit, and it was a relief to get out of the stuffy palace –for some reason he felt as though the walls were closing in on him back there- and muse his new job over. There was a feeling of what he could only describe as wrongness, mostly because he couldn't ever imagine Quistis turning her back on Esthar unless something had made her do so. He briefly entertained the possibility of her doing so because, after all, she was a Balamb in nationality and almost immediately dismissed it. Quistis had always struck him as a person who would do whatever was right, even if it involved turning against her own country.

He thrust his hands into his pockets and walked away somberly. Nonetheless, he was bound by his duty and his orders. His heart felt heavy. Would he trust himself to do the right thing when the time came?

He visualized himself and Quistis standing locked in combat. He disarmed her, sending her whip flying, and he aimed a gun at her and started to pull the trigger…

Would he do it? Or would he pause for a crucial second?

He honestly didn't know. And he hoped, fervently, that he would never, ever have to find out.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Kiros slung a single backpack over his shoulder that contained all he owned in the world, or at least everything that meant something to him. He had abandoned the heavy robes of the Estharians and just wore a black sweatshirt and gray slacks. His katars, long unused but still lovingly polished and in excellent condition, adorned his belt. He stepped from his quarters, observing that he wasn't the only one to do so. Others hurried out, carrying their possessions. Skeiz seemed to be firing practically every single member of the Advisory Committee right down to Maintenance. Paranoia, Kiros thought, was one of the many unlikable drawbacks of a dictator.

He walked out of the palace, almost certainly for the last time, walking past a lean-shouldered man with slanted dark eyes who brooded quietly nearby. He looked a little familiar, bt Kiros did not stop to start a conversation. The faster he was leaving Esthar, the better. He had heard about Quistis' grand escape, and the remembrance brought a smile to his lips. He wished her well.

But first he owed an obligation to an old friend. He walked down a few streets towards a plain, undecorated structure made of plain white marble that stood at the entrance of the State Park. Simple, like Laguna himself, who had lived his life without unnecessary ornament or luxury. It had been there for as long as anyone could remember, and the marble was yellowed and chipped off from years of exposure to the elements. But still it stood strong.

It was a towering obelisk, with an air of certain majesty about it. There was a great arch, like a bridge, that soared from behind the monolith to hang suspended and incomplete, in the air. Despite that, there was a sense of wholeness and well-being about it, and no wonder, for it guarded the Presidents of Esthar. Or rather, their ashes, after they were cremated.

Kiros, stopping silently in front of it, read the inscription etched into the front. The writing was old and worn but readable enough. He had read it many times before, finding peace it what it said:

Ascend the bridge

Into the day fair

To eternity it does reach

For you souls light as air

Duty done, forgotten

Rest awaiting, granted.

Rest in peace. For you the day will brighten.

This is for all the seeds of hope you have planted.

We will remember you.

"I'll remember you, Laguna," Kiros said softly, passion in his voice. He saluted to his former comrade, then walked away. Towards the space port where a plane was waiting to bring him to Fisherman's Horizon.

He did not intend to return.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(In Galbadia. More specifically, underneath the Presidential Residence.)

Ivan Kinneas awoke, his head throbbing. Feeling as though a hundred sledgehammers were pounding on the inside of his skull simultaneously, he instantly regretted opening his eyes and closed them as bright light stabbed into them, fresh pain blooming to agonizing life in his head.

"Ugh," he said quite succinctly.

"He's up!" an unfamiliar voice called, making Ivan wince. He wondered where he was; he could feel hard, cold stone beneath his cheek, and heavy iron against his wrists and ankles, rough and icy on his skin. His mouth tasted of metal; he ran his tongue over his teeth and discovered a split lip that stung horribly. His whole body was sore as though it had taken a thorough pummeling. He also realized that he was hungry and thirsty. When was the last time he had eaten? He glanced automatically at his watch, but the glass plating was cracked and the LCD screen was blank. No help there.

Footsteps pounded towards him, making Ivan's head hurt. In a rational part of his mind that still functioned, red Klaxon alarms started screaming. However, still dizzy from whatever had felled him, he was unable to focus until the feet had come to a stop in front of the iron bars.

Black boots, smelling and looking expensive. Trimmed with fur, leather. He looked up to see long navy blue pants, pressed and without a single crease in the cloth, well-made. His eyes traveled up further to see a cream-colored jacket over an immaculate white shirt. And wearing the outfit was…

Ivan was suddenly and unfortunately very much awake.

"Oh my god," he breathed, unconsciously.

Edigier Deling smiled lazily at his captive, safe and smug behind the bars that walled Ivan off from the rest of the world. Standing beside him and looking just as out of place a her companion was a woman, a stranger. Beautiful, in a sharp, sharky kind of way, resplendent in an black dinner dress that exposed more than it hid. Violet hair, somehow looking natural on her, golden eyes that snapped with intelligence.

Ivan did not like her.

"You bastard," he snarled, his memories coming back in a rush. He was leading a small group of cadets out to practice their aim on real, moving targets outdoors. Snow, pure and white, blinding their eyes. He had never seen the ambush until it had taken place in a whir of sound and movement. Screams, cadets wild with terror, emptying their cartridges blindly, some lying motionless on the snow in a pool of bright crimson, stark and vivid against the endless white. He was urging them to keep their heads, picking off the hit squad. A bullet, clipping his ribs, spinning him around; his opponent, raising the gun; a blinding pain on his head, then cool darkness.

Edigier was calm. Too calm. "That's not a nice thing to say to your host."

The woman at his side smiled very slightly, and when she noticed him noticing, tossed her magnificent mane of hair and smirked tauntingly at him.

"Don't play games!" Ivan was white with rage. He bolted upright, hurling himself at the bars as though they would give way under his weight. Of course they didn't, and he collided painfully with the hard metal. He clutched at the bars, driven by murderous anger, and yelled, "Just what have you done to my students?"

Edigier laughed. It was a soft tenor, and under any other circumstances it would have been pleasant, but now it grated against Ivan's nerves like a chainsaw with several broken teeth. He clenched his fists in helpless fury and stared with impotent hatred at the man and woman that stood so close. Tauntingly close, yet impossibly out of his reach.

"My men apparently left them for dead," Edigier finally said with a shrug. "They were ordered to go though any resistance to get you and once they did they departed. So, don't worry about it, Kinneas. At this point there are greater things to worry about."

Ivan glowered and said nothing. Edigier continued mockingly, "Come on, you are an intelligent young man, you would have guessed by now. You have, haven't you?" When Ivan remained stubbornly silent, the woman made a sharp gesture with her closed fist in Ivan's direction. The effect was akin to an extremely big and colorful firework exploding in Ivan's already battered skull. He let out a shriek and dropped to his knees, his face pressed against the icy, unforgiving bars. His lip broke again and blood wetted his chin.

"So like your parents," Edigier went on with an air of causality as though nothing had happened. "Such a pity. All those misconceptions of honor and mercy clouding your true potential, boy. Like your students. They died to try saving you, you know. Now, more of them would have been alive if it wasn't for their senseless heroics."

"Shut up," Ivan rasped, wiping away the blood from his mouth. He would have said more cutting and extremely uncomplimentary things about the President, but then another burst of pain sent him flat and rigid on the floor. He gasped wetly as something shattered inside him. It felt like needles were stabbing him in the side as he rolled over, shaking.

"Heal him, Adele," Edigier said, still sounding amused. "We need him whole, not broken."

The deceptively beautiful serpent in human form smiled disturbingly and extended her hand through the bars. Ivan jerked away, eyeing her distrustfully, but a choking hold on his throat, brought about by another movement of her hand, brought him up short. She laid her hand on his chest and closed her eyes in concentration. A moment later a tingling started on his chest and flowed outward. The woman's mental hold abruptly loosened and he went tumbling to the ground, feeling much more rejuvenated than before.

The action only confirmed his worst fears. They wanted him alive.

Edigier voice the dark thoughts that had been gathering in Ivan's mind like storm clouds. "Your parents wouldn't want to attack Deling City while their darling son is in this very city languishing in a cell, huh? After all, a stray missile might just go awry and end up killing you. Or an accident could happen…"

Ivan closed his eyes in dread, a chill creeping over him.

Edigier smiled at him. "Just think about it, Kinneas. And don't try to escape. You don't need to, anyway. Even as we speak a bunch of your devoted friends are no doubt already making arrangements to come and rescue you so that the attack on my city can take place. I'm counting on it, in fact." He exchanged a look with Adele, whose smile vanished, her eyes darkening over some unbidden memory.

"Just sit tight, Kinneas, and wait for your friends to come to you. Farewell. I have business to attend to and no time for the likes of you," Edigier declared, sneering. He strutted off with the golden-eyed woman whom Ivan now suspected must be a sorceress. Just then, Ivan's stomach gurgled loud enough to be heard three blocks away, causing Edigier to snicker. The youth's face flushed red and he glared reproachfully at his rebellious stomach.

"Guard," Edigier called, and in response a man in a gray uniform appeared, a gun in his belt. "Get the young man some food. I don't want him to starve to death."

"Stow it," Ivan growled, hating Edigier as he had never hated anyone before.

Edigier just gave him an irritating smirk and left for good. Ivan sat alone in his dingy little cell, chained and restrained, weaponless and GF-less as well, because he couldn't contact Ifrit no matter how hard he tried. Which reduced any spells he had to uselessness, since he couldn't cast magic without the Guardian's help. The odds didn't look good.

He thought of his parents, he thought of Galbadia taking over the world with an insane man as its leader, he thought of everyone being too afraid to launch an attack on Deling City in case he himself got killed, and he invented new and imaginative ways to cuss.

If he and everyone else somehow got out of this in one piece, he thought miserably to himself, hunching over and picking at his unappetizing looking lunch, or dinner, he couldn't tell, because he couldn't figure out the time in a cell without windows, it would be a bloody miracle.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Edigier and Adele strolled through the dungeon towards the surface, followed closely by the President's bodyguard, Tierna, trailing watchfully behind, a slim, silent shadow, and a deadly efficient as well. The two of them were confident, and why not? The threat of Coruthary had been eliminated by the Galbadian army; Esthar had been wrested from that weak fool, Loire, by a man every bit as power-hungry as Edigier himself; and in Trabia the Tilmitts still struggled to come to terms with sacrificing their own son for the good of the world. The Guardians, made useless and helpless by the Sting. Having a sorceress on the Galbadians' side didn't hurt either.

"Everything's going as planned," Edigier said with no small amount of satisfaction. "Thanks to you, my dear," he added, with a nod at Adele. The sorceress accepted his gratitude with a smile, but in truth she was preoccupied, her mind firmly focused on her son. It had been a shock to see him standing there, alive and healthy, younger but otherwise very much the skilled General he had been upon another world. She had been displeased to find the taint of the Lifestream of him, bathing him in a favoring glow. She shuddered delicately at the thought of her son as a warrior of the Planet. Not to mention that meant that she would have to fight him. In truth Adele did love him in her own way, and was severely disappointed in him for letting her down.

She turned her attention back to Edigier. "Do you feel that we still need those two prisoners then?" she asked mildly, as though she was chatting about buying flowers. "We do not really have need for the traitor within Balamb any longer."

Edigier flashed her a quick smile. "I think it would be best if we waited until Balamb is finally within our hands before we do so. Perhaps we might even reveal his identity to his friends. It might do well to create chaos and turmoil within the Garden which might work to our advantage."

By that time they had reached the end of the passage, and the President typed in his secret pass-code into the console, pressed his thumb into the reader. Silently the wall swiveled on oiled hinges, opening into his private bedroom. Tierna slipped ahead of them to check the surroundings for danger, before flashing the 'all clear' sign.

"Good, we're back just in time," the President commented. With Tierna and Adele, he headed towards the meeting hall. Tycho Assanio was already there, looking extremely pleased about something, and rose when his leader entered, sitting down only when Edigier had made himself comfortable at the head of the table.

The others filed in one by one minutes later, and Edigier declared the meeting open. He indicated for them to give him their reports, and Feder did so with distinct pride and arrogance as he recounted the losses of the SeeDs in Coruthary. However, Edigier was not pleased when Feder revealed that survivors had gotten away.

"How the devil did you allow that to happen?" Edigier snarled angrily. The other man flinched but quickly regained his composure. "I'm sorry, sir," he said hastily. "Apparently a team of SeeDs managed to blow up the doors and escape. My men were in pursuit but were ambushed by another enemy squad which had stayed outside and had not been caught in the trap. My soldiers were all decimated, so details are sketchy."

Adele, standing at Edigier's side, smiled with pride, the hood hiding it from the others' view. None of these amateurs could ever stand up against Sephiroth. Her Sephiroth.

"I pay you not to make mistakes like that," the President snapped at him. Feder grimaced, probably already imagining how he would die. But Edigier merely turned away and called upon Istarl, as usual half-hidden in his fedora and coat. The scientist spoke in a monotone, with absolutely no inflection at all. "I regret to report that the subject of Phase 013 is dead. Her body was found some way from the city."

Edigier frowned, a bad omen. Istarl went on, "I suspect she awoke prematurely before they could return to Balamb and the SeeDs killed her before she could cause any more damage. Unfortunately I have been able to determine that after Avine's death her powers went to one of the SeeDs, so in essence they have been able to retrieve their sorceress from us after all. However, what the new sorceress has received has been magnified by the cells kindly donated by the lady here—" For a moment his eyes flicked towards Adele. "Magnified and changed. I suspect that it would be possible for you to possess the girl if you manage to win in a battle of wills. So we successfully have been able to plant a time bomb in the Garden."

"That is good, then," Edigier shrugged. "In that case, Adele, it would be good if you followed my troops to lead the assault on Balamb Garden." The sorceress nodded in acquiescence.

"As Tycho wil be able to testify, the Sting worked and was able to render enemies helpless," Istarl said, causing Assanio to beam proudly. "It literally draws all magic from the area in a continuous cycle, and if the Guardians had appeared, their power would have been drained away the moment they appeared on this plane. Since Guardians are composed of powerful magic, coming to their comrades' rescue would have threatened their very existence."

"The prototypes of the Rays are also in good working condition," Tycho took up the topic where the scientist had left off. "If I could have permission from the President to mass-produce them in our factories instead of other more conventional weapons…"

"Go ahead," Edigier said with approval. He then turned to Kenji Miaren expectantly. The others, recalling Kenji's outburst the last time the five had come together, held their breaths.

"Fine, I admit I was wrong," the thin man readily admitted. "Your plans, if I say so myself, are very cunning. Worthy of a Deling." He smiled self-deprecatingly. Anyway, the city's defenses are stronger than ever before, what with the Sting protecting us from magic-users. Once those Rays come out, the fighters don't stand a chance against us. I calculate that about a quarter of Balamb's most experienced SeeDs and cadets have been disposed of. This was supposed to be their grad exam, so their best cadets must have been out here fighting. Our armies outnumber them by four to one. I think we really stand a good chance of winning this war, sir."

"Thank you for the assessment, Kenji," Edigir said cheerfully, willing to be forgiving. They talked about the upcoming assault after that, arguing over how many soldiers could they spare without leaving the city defenseless, the cost of weaponry, and so on. It was a couple of hours later when the meeting was adjourned. The four members of the Central Party left first, satisfied and secure in the knowledge of their superiority.

Edigier stayed behind, having seen from Adele's subtle hand motions that she wanted to speak with him in private. He was in a good mood, so he granted her request. She perched on the edge of the table, the lovely face that she permitted only him and Tierna to see tense and troubled.

"Speak," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"You believe that a rescue party will arrive in search of the Kinneas boy. I have one boon to ask of you. I am sure that within the group will be a boy with silver hair. His name is Sephiroth, and he is my son. I ask of you that you spare his life and deliver him to me instead."

Edigier was astonished, surprised. Whatever he had been expecting, it definitely wasn't this. "Are you going soft, Adele?"

She whirred on him, her hair flying out with such force that the strands struck him on the face. Her face was angry, her fey beauty intensified by her fury. "He is a powerful sorcerer, for he is of my blood. He is the only one who could challenge me, and have a hope of winning."

"All the more reason to kill him," Edigier remarked candidly.

Her eyes blazed with amber fire through the curtain of her long hair. "No! In the past, I have been able to control him as I did Avine and he did all I bid gladly. If we can sway him to our side, he will be invaluable to our cause. And…" here her voice softened almost imperceptibly, "and he is my son."

"And what will you do if we reisists?" Edigier demanded, annoyed by Adele's sudden and unwelcome display of sentimentality.

Adele looked straight into his eyes and he saw there in the molten pools of her eyes the ruthlessness and cruelty he appreciated so much because they were equally reflected in him. Her answer was brutally frank and to the point.

"Then I will kill him, of course. Blood can only get you so far."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Author's Ending Note: Big apologies for the delay! I was too lazy to write anything until yesterday. Anyway, sorry if the chapter is too short (short according to my new standards of writing) 'cos the purpose of the chappie was to tie up a few loose ends and fill in some plot holes. Next chapter will be longer, I promise, involving more action, and Seph will make a comeback. Look out for it! Bye.

Travithian Axile signing off

Thanks to:

TheWyldeWestWind: (Agrees whole-heartedly) Sorry, no Sephiroth and Paine, read my Word form above if you haven't already to find out the reason why. Can't torture poor Sephiroth more than I have already. Oh yeah, I need to write an apology letter to Seph for writing that TIAL side story thing. (smirks)

Anasazi Darkmoon: I keep my promises. Thanks again!

tetraflash777: Darn. It was supposed to create a feeling of suspense, like, readers are saying, hey, there's something the author hasn't told us, what, what, WHAT! Well, I'll just have to work on my cliffies.

Zack M. Strith: Glad everyone feels that way, because I certainly don't.

Quela: It's my favorite too. I've been planning that event ever since I started that story and was dying to write it for ages and was SO glad when the opportunity finally sprang up. Expect more wing goodness in future.

emerald drake: Cool, thanks for the awesome support!

Billy: I warned ya at the start of the chapter! Don't worry, that IS the only scene where I went into serious detail. You can read the rest without fear of throwing up. Please reassure your mom that I felt badly about writing that part too, and I'm not a sick, bloodthirsty person.

Narcissistic Fruitcake: What are you confused about? Is it my plotline? If so, can I help you?

Dark Feruil: You sound really enthusiastic, glad to know the fans are still rooting for me…YES!

Thanks to the reviewers of TIAL: A Little Drink Can't Hurt…Can It?

Hikari-Remix: Of course I would do it. I couldn't help it, ha ha ha! I couldn't resist! Who could? Especially when it concerns Seph.

sephirothlord76667: However, contrary to what I wrote above, I must now confess that I was extremely ashamed of myself after I posted it! I dreamt of horrified fans chasing me with loads of pointy objects and Sephiroth after me with the Masamune. I was pleasantly surprised to have such popular response. Yeah, I knew it would never happen. But I wrote it anyway. So there.

Mako Red Eyes: Yeah, I suppose it's good to have Seph break out of his shell once in a while. Though like s-lord said, it is quite unlikely, huh?

Cendrillo: 'Wonderfully crazy'…quite an accurate description, actually. I'm glad it got a few laughs, though.

Quela: Why, thanks! (beams) Incidentally, it was your review that made me decide to write the Chronicles, 'cos when you said it was nice to see Seph's past since TIAL was rather vague about it, I thought, why not? So a big thank you for the inspiration!

Jazze-Al-Bhed-Girl: I often wonder why Sephiroth fans have the strange tendency to enjoy seeing him suffer while we often profess our love and devotion for him. Just a thought. Anyway, I like Rufus too. Must be the evilness and the hair. Have you read the Chronicles yet? Rufus is in it, and gets one whole chapter to himself. Hee.


	21. 20: Part One:Ambitions and Advances

A Word from the Author: (taken aback) WHOA! Cool down, Sephiroth WILL be in this chapter, so don't murder me, okay? Alrighty, I promise longer chapters in future, like I said, the last one was just to plug in the plot holes. And more canon characters will be joining the story briefly. WARNING: This is only Part One of the chapter! The second part promises to be super long so I wanted to post the first part up first so I don't get murdered by my fans. Some fans you are. Okay, here's Chap Nineteen. Part One, that is. Enjoy.

Chapter Nineteen: Ambitions and Advances, Part One

(Balamb Garden, morning)

The Garden was practically deserted except for a few early birds as he walked through the entrance of the dormitory. No wonder; the rest must have spent half the night in the ballroom and were probably sound asleep.

Sephiroth was concerned over his roommate's malady; Daniel still had not returned last night. Had Avine's attack left more scars than he had imagined? It must be terrible and heartbreaking to have someone you loved turning on you so suddenly. Probably like what he himself had felt in the Northern Crater when Cloud and his friends had beaten up Jenova and she had fled, leaving him alone and anguished in the crater. He had welcomed death, let Strife stab him in the heart, then.

He strolled into the infirmary and Dr. Kadowaki directed him to the right patient. He walked down the aisle, doing his best to ignore the occasional groan emanating from the wards where the injure lay recuperating. He entered and took a moment to adjust to the sunlight streaming through the window. Then he realized that he and Daniel weren't the only people in the room.

Paine stared at him, a shocked look on her face. Then a closed expression shuttered her eyes and she turned away, apparently deciding that the best solution was to ignore him as much as possible. Sephiroth sidled past her, and she jerked away as they accidentally touched. The two stood in uncomfortable silence, gazing upon the still figure in the bed. So white he was nearly transparent, Daniel's eyes were closed, fluttering every once in a while, his breathing deep and even. Sephiroth could practically see the blue veins in the fighter's arms standing out vividly. Comatose like that, the youth looked oddly fragile and vulnerable, and Sephiroth felt immeasurably sorry for him, not to mention guilt. Daniel had already suffered so much; what would the news that his girlfriend was dead, at Sephiroth's own hands, no less, do to his spirit?

"Well," Paine said awkwardly, "I guess I'll be going, then." Sephiroth turned, startled, only to see her black hair whipping out behind her as she fled from Daniel's bedside. He almost called out to her, then changed his mind, letting his hand drop limply to his side. Let her have more time, he told himself, glancing back at his roommate, motionless and looking very much as though he was on his deathbed.

He took a breath and flicked his gaze discreetly towards the camera mounted on its stand at a corner of the ceiling. He shifted his body around so that he blocked its view and leaned over his comrade, long hair falling over his face and brushing against Daniel's torso. He swatted the strands out of his eyes and concentrated, placing his hands on the martial artist's temples.

Be gentle, he reminded himself. The poor boy's gone through a horrible experience and he doesn't need you to damage his mind more.

He reached out his mind, and was instantly speeding out of his body and into Daniel. He winced as he was assaulted on all sides by horrid reds and blacks, swirling crazily in the bleak landscape of grays and purples and brushing against his psyche. He struggled to orient himself, dimly aware of how close he was to insanity himself. With that thought, he leaked more power into his shields and his chaotic movement shuddered to a halt.

He retained his normal shape in the mental representation of Daniel's bleeding mind, and in the gloom the Armlet of the Cetra glowed with beautiful emerald light, the vibrancy of spring brightening up the winter. Just the presence of the Planet was enough to make the whirling madness recoil from its very touch.

You're hiding somewhere in there, Daniel, he thought, projecting his words into the boy's mind. Come out.

The attacking phantasms grew more aggressive, striking violently against the blaze of the Lifestream and Sephiroth's own mental shields. The sorcerer flinched but stood his ground. He sent waves of consciousness warbling throughout, and was rewarded by the faint throb of a sentience somewhere in the distance—metaphorically, of course.

He tightened his focus and the 'ground' rushed beneath his 'feet', and the flicker of life he had contacted grew brighter, a splash of golden light in the air. In it, he could vaguely make out his roommate's features, distorted and warped as the light shimmered erratically.

Found you, Sephiroth thought in satisfaction. He did not break through the globe; doing so could do irreparable injury to Daniel's mind and he did not want to reduce the youth to a gibbering idiot. No, Daniel had to emerge of his own free will. Like an embryo about to be born into the world, he had to be willing to leave the cool darkness and security of the womb and face the harshness of the world outside.

Help me, Planet, he pleaded silently.

The light of the Lifestream intensified in answer, strands of shimmering, gossamer-fine emerald shooting into the darkness and repelling the shadows. Sephiroth threw in his own efforts, chasing the accumulated guilt and self-hatred in Daniel and expanding a second shield, casting it over Daniel's brain to protect his awareness from the harm the darkness was causing him, giving him time to heal and face the facts when he was sufficiently ready to do so.

Blue-green light shot out everywhere, and arched over the amber cocoon that was Daniel. Within, something stirred, and Sephiroth caught a glimpse of wide brown eyes filled with new life, and then he was violently expelled from his host's body as the owner's soul took over his shell with a rush.

Tired but satisfied, he opened his eyes and smiled as Daniel twitched under the white sheets, then settled into a healthier sleep, color flushing his face with vivacity.

The Armlet flared, then the light softened to its usual hue.

"Thank you," Sephiroth said, and left.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(At Cetra, the Kramers' orphanage)

The children ran around their feet, small faces flushed with happiness, and Squall and Rinoa smiled at each other, bathed in the first reddish glow of the rising sun. They sat on a bench facing the meadow of golden flowers where the orphans romped about with childish pleasure on their faces, their innocence happily no less diminished by the losses that had stolen their parents away from their young lives.

The blissful silence was punctuated only by the joyful squeals of the children as they rolled about in the grass, and the sweet musk of the flowers hung heavy in the air. Then a low growl, the sound of a flight of fighter plane, shattered the fragile peace of the orphanage. Squall looked up in alarm, as the dark, sleek shape of a Mirrormist wheeled above them, a black silhouette against the sun. Rinoa rose instantly, and with many cajoling words and promises ushered the children back inside the orphanage where the walls at least offered a measure of protection. Squall rested his hand on Lionheart and ran outside, where the Mirrormist, gleaming black, descended towards the earth. He heaved a sigh of relief as he spotted the vivid colors of the Balamb Garden logo splashed across its side and his hand fell away from his weapon.

The ramp lowered and a man decked out in a black jumpsuit embroidered with the insignia of the Flight Commander hopped out. He removed his helmet to reveal close-cropped blond hair in a bowl cut and unfamiliar features. Squall supposed that an unfortunate accident had befallen the last one.

"I'm Jafael Freliner, the Flight Commander," the young man introduced himself. "Headmistress Fraden requires a meeting with you, and it's urgent. I have orders to take you to Balamb Garden straight away—" he glanced at the other five Mirrormists circling above— "and my men have orders to stay behind and guard the orphanage. As you have heard recently, Deling's ambitions are fast growing too much to be sufficiently contained, and there is some concern that you may be in danger. In Garden you might be safer. Don't worry, my men will do their job."

"What is it, Squall?" Rinoa asked, arriving at the scene. She rested a hand on her husband's arm, real fear in her voice. "Is it about the children?"

Jafael explained the situation to her again, and in the end she agreed reluctantly to leaving the orphans behind. The Flight Commander led the way to the passenger seats and as they strapped themselves in Squall asked quietly, "Jafael, there's something you're not telling us. What is really going on?"

The Flight Commander paused and looked at him hard. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with sadness. "War, sir. It's going to be the third Sorceress War, the biggest one since the Fall, and Balamb Garden is the only thing standing against the tide."

With that, he strode away to the cockpit, and Rinoa gripped her husband's hand wordlessly, apprehension in her eyes. They sat silently, absorbing what had gone on while they had toiled in the orphanage cut off from the rest of the world.

Squall summed it up best in three extremely vehemently expressed words. "We. Are. Fucked."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(A few hours later. Balamb Garden.)

The Mirrormist gently touched down on the airway and disgorged its passengers and pilot. Xu was already there waiting for them, and she looked very harassed. In the span of a few days she had grown old; her once bright hazel eyes dulled with exhaustion and despair, lines creasing the skin of her face. But she was as alert as ever. She smiled in welcome, crossing the tarmac and gripping each of their arms vigorously in turn.

"Good to see you, Squall, Rinoa," she said, looking a bit better. She raked her fingers through her messy brown hair, streaked with gray, and yawned widely. "We've got a situation here, and it's not good. You've come just in time for the meeting, hurry up, the old crowd's here."

Squall was surprised. "Did you gather everybody, Xu?"

"I didn't." She gave him a tight, wan smile. "They came themselves. But you'll see." She walked off without explanation and the Leonheart couple followed her to the meeting room. Selphie, Irvine and their daughter Lisa were sitting on a couch, for once bereft of their infectious energy; Zell, ever restless, was pacing up and down the sides of the room; Quistis was sitting cross-legged on the carpet looking very grim; Seifer was staring out the window, hands clasped behind his back, and Arne was leaning against the wall staring at his boots.

For a moment there was a bit of a commotion as everyone recognized Squall and Rinoa and tried to hug them at once, resulting in a gigantic and confusing tangle of limbs. Eventually everything was sorted out, and Xu perched on top of the armchair at the far end of the room. All levity gone, she stated, "As of 0100 hours this morning, I received a call from Deling, asking for surrender. Well, actually he said that all governments would be assimilated into the new republic and if we would not stand down and give up all our arms within twenty-four hours it would be regarded as a hostile action and they would attack without mercy. He urged me to hand over control of Balamb Garden to him with the promise that the citizens of Balamb Town would come to no harm. I think, considering what happened in the last war…" Xu bit her lip in frustration. "This decision is not up to us to make. It is for the mayor of Balamb."

"Hell!" Zell declared in anger, leaping up and throwing punches at the air. "They'll rather die free than live as slaves!"

"But we cannot know that, Zell," Xu said rather coolly, her eyes staring him down. "We cannot choose for them. Right now we are currently awaiting their decision…I sent Deling's message to Mayor Reinhard as soon as I finished checking it for bugs. I…what is it, Fred?"

Arne pulled open the door to reveal a teenaged boy standing uncertainly on the step. He stammered at the sight of the exalted beings before him, "Headmistress, ma'am, the mayor is, uh, here to see you. He just arrived ten minutes ago…"

"Excellent," Xu said briskly. "Send him in." As the boy fled, Squall looked questioningly around. "Guys, what's going on?" he asked.

Irvine managed a bitter laugh. "I would say a lot," he muttered, sounding uncharacteristically pessimistic.

Arne took over. "Ivan Kinneas is in the hands of the Galbadians, so Trabia Garden is holding back. Quistis is no longer the Headmistress of Esthar Garden, and has been replaced with one Loki Calrior by the new President." He stopped a moment, pain in his eyes that was reflected in his parents' expressions. "Anyway, with Coruthary out of the picture, and Fisherman's Horizon lack of arms, we're on our own. The Shumis won't fight. You know them. They won't get involved in the affairs of humans, though some of the younger generation and Moombas are willing to fight for us."

"Shit," Squall breathed with feeling.

At that moment, the door opened to admit a somewhat stout but tall man graying at the temples in dignified fashion. He wore a neat, pinstriped suit, black trousers and his chain of office gleamed around his neck. The mayor held a briefcase and had a very somber expression on his strong features. At his entry, all the SeeDs in the room and Seifer and Rinoa rose to their feet and bowed.

The mayor waved them down and sat heavily on a vacant chair, looking weary. Shifting uneasily, he said in a serious tone, "This…was an extremely difficult decision to make. My advisors and I talked about it for a long time…argued…we could not come to a conclusion. In the end…we gave the choice to the people."

"Some panicked, requested permission to leave Balamb, flee to Fisherman's Horizon, the last safe refuge that we know of. The others remained, but not all were in favor of defying the Galbadians. But there were those who stood strong and said that even if we surrendered and they lived, it would be to live a life of slavery and fear. It would not be worth living then. No, they wanted to fight. To defend their homes and families. Those who can fight are making preparations for tomorrow, while the invalid, the elderly, children and women are being ferried out to the orphanage." The mayor gazed at them with dark eyes. "Do you have your answer?"

"Yes," Xu said quietly through the lump in her throat. The mayor gave her a tight smile and added, "Reinforcements will arrive in an hour. The town is being abandoned, and the stores are providing their products for free, in case anything is needed. I shall see you later." He stood up, looking stern.

"Sir!" Xu looked shocked. "You should seek refuge too, you can't…"

"I am the leader of Balamb," Mayor Reinhard stated coldly. "I will not run like a common coward when I can stand in defense of my people." He turned on his heel abruptly, signaling that the conversation was closed, and departed.

"So this is it," Xu said softly. "Everybody. You have until 1000 hours the next day to get ready. Rest, and make sure your weapons are in good condition. Tomorrow the world is going to fall apart." She sighed. "Me? I'm going to have to speak over the comm system. I'll rather wrestle with a behemoth."

The others laughed rather feebly, there was no humor in the laughter, just desperate disbelief and a desire to imagine that everything was just fine. But it never would be. Xu pinched the bridge of her nose in exhaustion. Ye gads. What would she do? What could be done?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sephiroth was looking for Paine, to explain, to become friends again, but no one seemed to have seen her anywhere. Thus far he had searched the library, the canteen, the classrooms, and even asked her roommate to have a peek inside Paine's dorm. He figured the girl might be taking out her anger on the monsters in the Training Center when he heard Xu's voice over the comm. His sixth sense prickled uncomfortably and he stopped dead, almost causing the snogging couple behind him to crash headlong into his back. "What's your problem?" the infuriated male snapped at Sephiroth, but he himself froze as the message was delivered.

"Attention, all SeeDs and cadets," Xu said. Outwardly she seemed composed and in control, but Sephiroth thought that he detected a strained note in her voice. "The day we have feared is finally upon us. At exactly 1000 hours tomorrow Galbadia Garden will make an assault upon Balamb Garden. It will be genocide. SeeDs who have gone on the last grad exam, please explain to your fellows why exactly magic cannot be used. Prepare yourselves for battle. I understand that this is something that cannot ever be prepared for, but…" her voice broke. "Be strong. And may Hyne bless us."

She was suddenly all business again. "Flight Commander Freliner, SeeD Instructor-General Proeliator, Commander Wyerheir, Captain Leonheart report to my office straightaway. All SeeDs with even number IDs, you are hereby assigned to guard the Garden from enemy attacks and prevent further infiltration. SeeDs with IDs ending in 5, guard the cadets with your lives. SeeDs wil odd numbers, you will launch a spearhead attack on the enemy…"

Xu continued to spout more orders, but Sephiroth, having heard what he needed to do, began heading for the Training Center. A thought had occurred to him. He plunged deep into the leafy layers of the sweltering jungle, searching for the girl. After half an hour, he found her in the stimulated shooting gallery set up in an upper level overlooking the jungle practicing her aim. She squeezed off a shot, narrowing her eyes in concentration. At first, as he approached, he thought that she had not noticed him, then she sighed and spun to face him, lowering her guns. "What do you want?" she queried, sounding decidedly hostile.

"To talk to you," he answered simply.

She laughed harshly and fired again. She scored the bull's eye. "You probably think I'm some stupid little girl running around for your affections," she said coldly. "Well, don't worry about it. I know your feelings now."

His heart ached for her. He lowered himself to the ground, watching her. "Paine, don't feel like that. It's perfectly natural. You were hurting, and I comforted you, so you just reached out to me. I'm sorry if I did anything to you."

Paine stopped. "I love you," she said sullenly, looking above his head. "I still do. It's not a crush."

"No you don't," he responded. "It was because I could understand you, because I was a sorcerer and I knew how you felt. Because you were feeling different and detached from everyone else. But you can't keep your feelings bottled up forever. The thing is, Paine, in your mind I was the perfect person you always wanted. But you don't really know me. The real me."

"I know all about your past," Paine pointed out.

Sephiroth sighed. "But have you come to terms with what I did? I have killed innocent people in cold blood, among other atrocities." He saw her flinch back a little, and the vivid image of Avine's grisly decapitation shone clearly and redly in his mind, flashed from hers to his in a moment of string emotion. "And I have not told you the whole story. There are many other things buried in here too personal to be shared. You have only known me for two weeks. At your age, it is a bit too young to say you love someone. Save it for the right person. Lastly…" He glanced at her sadly. "Even if you love me, I couldn't love you back. I would just break your heart."

Paine swallowed. "Is there…is there someone else?" she asked softly.

Sephiroth shook his head, long hair fluttering around his head. "No…but the point is, we can still be friends. Like we were before. I still like your companionship. Do you think you can deal with that?"

She nodded, and they shook hands. Her palm was cool and callused against his. Sephiroth looked at her steadily. "Remember what I said about keeping everything inside? You should tell Xu you are a sorceress."

"But then she won't trust me!" Paine protested.

"She will. I am who I am, yet she accepted me. Xu is very fair; she will not give up on someone without a full trial. You cannot keep something so important a secret forever," he admonished. "Your powers, after all, will be needed. As will mine be."

Paine looked surprised. "Why?"

Sephiroth explained. "The Sting can be calibrated to absorb magic even at this distance. I have observed that normal humans are unable to summon or cast anything except minor spells when the Sting is in effect. Somehow, though, the Summons are able to draw the needed energy from the bodies of sorcerers and sorceresses and emerge on this plane without danger of being sucked from existence. I surmise it is because we are directly connected to the planet's energy source and it is impossible for the Sting to drain everything. Therefore, we are Balamb Garden's last hope! Should Balamb fall, the summons could turn the tables for us. You cannot hide your gift, Paine, for the sake of your own fear! You cannot be selfish. Not now."

He spoke animatedly, gestured forcefully, splotches of pink in his pale cheeks. He looked very hard at her, as though wanting to check whether she had absorbed his words properly. She had. She looked very nervous, but determined too.

"Fine," she said shakily. She slid her pistols into her hip holsters, and smiled tentatively at him. "Let's go, then."

END PART ONE

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Author's Ending Note: I'm so sorry, I know I promised longer chapters! But then, this IS only the first half. Be assured, I have roughly written out the summary of the next few chapters and I have a feeling I actually know where everything is going. I'm not dead, I just went on holiday so I didn't really work on Chap 19. SO SORRY!!! Oh yeah, if anyone is interested, the Chronicles have been updated, this time it's from Hojo's point of view. (shudder) Stay tuned for part two, which will cover the War of the Gardens, and include a lot of dazzling action and major ass-kicking. Or so I hope. Also, I hope that the opening scene isn't too cliché. (Rolls eyes) Sometimes I think that if Sephiroth wasn't so cool and a canon char he would be such a Gary Stuart! ANYWAY…See all of you cool readers later, and leave loads of nice reviews for me to cuddle, k? Thanks!

T. Axile signing off

Thanks to:

TheWyldeWestWind: Loads of nice, mushy sephy scenes in here. Oh Hyne…I mean, oh gosh, what had I come to?!!! I've made Sephy a sissy!!! To think he was once an insane murderer…

Zack M. Strith: Man, I owe you a giant apology. This chapter is even shorter than the one before it! But I reeeeaally reeeeeealy promise that next chapter will be LONG! Insanely long! I sincerely hope so, because it's not written yet. But then I'm writing about a major battle, right? Should be a long one…

Anasazi Darkmoon: Ooh. Nice to know my villains are so horribly despicable. Anyway, I have some stuff planned out for Loki. Evil stuff, of course. Wouldn't you like to know? Yeah, and though Seph won't face them directly, he'll probably do his best to throw a spanner into the works.

Hopeful Wings: is shocked. You HAVEN"T FINISHED THE GAMES YET?!!! Oh my gad, you need to drop everything and start both straight away and DON"T GET UP UNTIL YOU SEE THE WORDS 'THE END'! Ahem. But so far they're great, huh? I hope I'm not giving away any spoilers…ok, I probably am. How come you aren't bothered by the spoilers? And I'm glad to know people understand the plot.

Noacat: Welcome back! Whoa, I really sympathize with you. There's no way I could stand living without a PC an access to fandom for a prolonged period of time…I'm so happy too you're enjoying the chapters! But perhaps next time you should pull on some socks…

………………………………………………………………………………………………


	22. 20: Part 2: War of the Gardens

A Word From the Author: 16/12/04- Okay, I'm sure when I finally finish typing this out I won't be surprised if 2004 has already passed by. For you guys' benefit I'll make it as long as possible. Like I promised last chappy this chapter will be an action-packed one, and yes, Sephiroth WILL star in it. WARNING: Character deaths will be starting from now on, even canon chars. Apologies. I can't juggle so many chars around including my own OCs. See you down there!

Chapter Nineteen, Part Two: War of the Gardens

The Training Center, Balamb Garden

0600 hours

Sephiroth pulled out the Masamune. It glittered sleekly in the pale light of the brightening sky. Paine tensed, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the hilt of her broadsword. They saluted one another, then leaped into the fight, both blades scraping against each other. Sephiroth scored first touch, and gave her a few pointers. She took notes and applied them and eventually on the third try she managed to tap Sephiroth rather harder than necessary on his shoulder. He scowled meaningfully at her and the next time he rapped her sharply on her bum. She began to laugh, some of her nervousness seeping out of her, and after a while her sparring partner joined in as well.

It felt good to laugh; Paine felt more relaxed than she had ever since she had learnt about the impending attack. After a while they stopped, but in higher spirits, to continue the exercise, while the other students in the training center looked at them as though they were crazy, shrugged, and returned to whatever they had been doing.

"Are you afraid?" Paine asked Sephiroth.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Should I? But I know what you mean. However, I am an experienced campaigner and therefore I have only anticipation for the battle. We should relish the opportunity to teach Deling a lesson as painfully as possible. As Zack would say, "Bring 'em on.""

"We could lose," she argued. "We're outnumbered, and the advantage which has protected us for so long is gone. This was the only Garden that ever used Guardian Forces and now only the two of us can supposedly summon them. Plus the Galbadian Army is huge. Like, four figures. Throw in the SeeDs of Galbadian Garden…" she shuddered.

"So we have been lowered to their level. It could have been worse," he observed. "And even if we are defeated today, this is only the battle, not the war. We could retreat with a better idea of the foe's strengths and weaknesses and use the knowledge to potent effect the next time round."

Paine smiled. "I wish I could be as optimistic as you."

"Just being realistic," he replied. "Now are we going to spend the rest of our time chatting or sparring?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Hall, 1F

0700 hours

They were rivals. Deadly enemies, embroiled in longtime hate. Stormy, blue-gray eyes met mocking, cerulean green eyes in a head-on challenge. The two gunblades flashed like silver fire in the glare of the wakening sun. White trench coat and black leather, whirling in intricate swordplay that enraptured the soul.

One of them fell, overcome by the foe. The other gave a smirk of triumph and aimed the gunblade at the heap on the ground struggling to rise. He rested a gloved finger on the trigger, and pulled. The sound of a bang echoed on the air, and the defeated man on the ground reeled back, mouth opening to say…

"Ow. That sucks, Squall."

Glowering, Seifer tossed the rubber bullet that had hit him on the temple, leaving a round bruise on his skin, back to Squall. The ex-commander grinned smugly and grabbed the tiny missile out of the air just before it bounced off his chin.

"You're just being a sore loser. Trust me, all those years ago if you hadn't used the Fire spell I would have kicked your ass to kingdom come." Unlike then, there was no rancor in his words now, just friendly humor.

"Oh yeah?" Seifer returned disdainfully. "This time I let you win, Leonheart, so you can coddle your bruised ego and delude yourself into believing that you're the better one."

"It isn't delusion, Seifer, it's the truth. You're the one being delusional." Squall shot back smartly.

Next to them, Rinoa rolled her eyes. She tossed her pinwheel at the piece of paper she had taped on a tree fifty feet away and watched in satisfaction as the weapon buried itself into the target she had painted on it (the paper was looking rather battered by now). It spun back to her and she looked at the two men with mock exasperation. "Honestly, guys. Can't they put you two together without initiating an argument of some sort?"

Both just smirked in response and turned back to ramming each other's gunblades. But they couldn't help but glance nervously at the horizon, where the sun's golden rim could clearly be seen over the edge of the mountains, sending golden fingers reaching across the dawn-streaked sky.

"How much more time?" Seifer asked, voice strained.

Squall consulted his chrono. "We have two more hours before we need to move into position."

Seifer nodded, sighed. Squall looked at him closely. Was there guilt in his eyes? Could it be..?

"Are you remembering that again?" he asked almost gently.

Seifer looked at him, but it was obvious his brain was seeing something else; twenty-so years in the past, the brash, arrogant Seifer had stood in the Galbadian Garden, directing the troops…

"That," Seifer admitted. "And a helluva lot of things as well." He managed a thin smile that grew stronger as he swung he gunblade unexpectedly, causing Squall to jump backwards to avoid being impaled.

"Cheater!" Squall exclaimed, and they were dueling furiously again.

Later, though, he thought about it, and cursed himself for not realizing that something was wrong.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The Infirmary

0800 hours

"Honestly, I'm absolutely fine," Daniel insisted, trying to get out of bed. He was trying to no avail because the fierce-looking nurse kept shoving back onto the sheets whenever he so much as twitched a toe.

"Young man," the nurse replied, whose tag read SHANNON O' KILEARNEY. "Up to yesterday morning you have been in a deep coma and now you think we're just going to let you waltz out of here?" She then added in a very un-nurselike tone, "Fat chance."

"Pretty please," Daniel made big puppy eyes.

"Sorry, dear, but I'm not susceptible to such pathetic tactics," Shannon informed the youth with malicious sweetness. "It's chaos out there, and you're safe here, so WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING?!!!"

"Outta here," Daniel insisted stubbornly, reaching over to grab his shoes. "Balamb Garden's gonna be attacked by those jackasses and there's no way I'm going to sit quietly by like a good little boy!"

"No way in hell," Shannon growled, narrowing her eyes at her patient. For a nurse she had a surprisingly strong grip as she planted a hand on Daniel's chest and shoved him down, causing him to make goldfish noises.

"Shannon, just WHAT is going on in there?" Dr. Kadowaki demanded incredulously, poking her head around the door to take in the sight of her student bending over a patient, hand on his chest.

To her credit, Shannon remained calm, as opposed to Daniel who was flushing a deep crimson. "The patient was being uncooperative, ma'am. I was merely trying to restrain him." She shot Daniel a murderous look.

"Well, ah, I see. However that is no longer necessary. The release forms have been signed by Headmistress Xu herself that Mr. Roheiz is fit for duty."

"Really? YOO-HOO!" Daniel whooped exuberantly, and as Shannon removed her hand in disgust, he grabbed his things and rushed out in his hospital gown, apparently not wanting to stay one more second in his room.

"Great," Shannon groaned. "You mean that was all for nothing?! What a wonderful waste of my time!" Grumbling, she stalked off. Grinning in amusement, Dr. Kadowaki walked off to check on the other patients.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Gates 1F

0830 hours

Xu rubbed her reddening eyes with one hand. Hyne, she was tired, but she couldn't rest yet, and the attack was just one hour away. Next to her, the Captain, Commander, Flight Commander and her two highest-ranking instructors were all giving her worried looks. They were waiting for the promised Shumi and Balamb reinforcements to arrive so she could direct them to their appointed places. At last Deckard and Elenor exchanged a significant look and both took one of her elbows firmly. She swallowed a yawn, glaring at them. "Just what the blazes do you think you are doing?" she demanded.

"You'll be useless in battle like this, Xu," Elenor admonished sternly, dispensing with the formalities. "Get some shut-eye, you really need it. We'll wake you up when we need you."

"But the Shumi…" Xu protested, swaying. The idea of sleep seemed positively heavenly at the moment, but she knew that right now there were more important things to do…but…oh, she felt so damn tired…stupid body, don't betray me…

Deckard laughed. "Oh, you're so goddamn stubborn, Xu. For once listen to reason. We know what to do, we can handle it just fine, don't worry. Honestly, you're just like a mother hen."

"And if you don't listen to us, I swear to Hyne I'll cast Sleep on you. At least you can get some rest that way," Elenor chimed in.

Xu wavered, looking from one face to the other. "Mutineers," she accused.

Deckard laughed again. "True, but we're well-meaning mutineers. Hey, Commander, come over and escort the good headmistress back to her quarters, will you?"

"Sure thing," Haisha Wyerheir agreed amiably, slinging an arm around Xu, who was already limp and snoring lightly, and guiding her gently back to her office. Arne , who had been watching the gate, reported, "Hey, the people from Balamb Town are coming. Have they finished clearing away all the debris in the basement yet?"

"Yeah, ten minutes ago," Jafael answered.

The jeeps unloaded their cargo of people an weapons, and Elenor guided the frightened women, children and elders into the basement, while Deckard and Arne commandeered the rest, handing out weapons to those who could handle them, including armor. Jafael nabbed those with histories of flying any kind of airplane and explained the controls to them. Haisha returned and reminded her comrades to distribute commlinks to the leaders of each faction. Worriedly they waited while they trained the Balambians hastily, looking at the sky and searching for any signs of black specks. All they could do now was wait.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Control Room, 3F

1001 hours

Nida was chewing on a ham sandwich and trying to swing his saber around in the cramped conditions when the sensors blared an alarm. He skewered the sandwich on the sharp end of his saber and checked the screen. Going pale, he slammed down on the PA system and yelled, "Emergency! Everyone, get to your positions, now!" He swallowed the sandwich hurriedly and started typing, bringing the data readings up as holograms that glowed around him. The technicians sent in panicked reports from the bridge which he relayed to all the commlinks as e-mail messages. "Computer, label X3307Z as threat." Onscreen, the dot representing Galbadia Garden turned red, including all the other dots clustering around it. Balamb Garden and her defenders glowed blue.

Next to him, his co-pilot, Derek Warren, looked equally as intent as his fingers danced so furiously they were practically a blur. He caught Nida's concerned glance over and gave him a thumbs-up and a weak grin before returning to his work. Nida almost jumped as his computer beeped.

"Pilot Deehryn, there is a holo-message from X3307Z. Confirm viewing?"

"Negative. Send to console Fraden. Defense status?"

"Lascannons, 97 and climbing, front shields and rear shields, two green. Missiles are fully stocked, ready to fire, with a cycle of five per thirty seconds. Aiming mechanism fully operational…"

Nida absorbed the information even as he set his sights in on the approaching ship. He could not hope to take out the Garden itself; it was too well-armored, just like Balamb. He would have to decimate the fleet of fighter planes to even the odds for the Balamb planes. Unfortunately, the pilot of the other Garden also would have the same idea.

He glanced through the viewscreen. It was a beautiful day, the kind the SeeDs and citizens of Balamb should have been enjoying. Blue, cloudless sky, warm sunshine, cool breeze. There should have been people swimming in the bay, children running about the cobbled streets, mothers bustling to market, fathers heading to work. But Balamb was a ghost town, deserted and eerily poignant.

Galbadian Garden hovered, sleek and deadly, like a crouching red demon, over the town. Its gun turrets rotated, and Nida felt his heart sink. His hands gripped the controls spasmodically as orange fire burst from the cannons, reducing the town to blackened ashes. Over the mike, he heard a technician gasp and sob; Derek just stared, jaw hanging open in disbelief. He felt the same way; staring in disbelief, he watched his home disappear beneath the gunfire.

"Pilot Deehryn," the computer prompted gently, and Nida jerked as he heard it. "The other pilot wishes to initiate communication with you. Do you wish to proceed?"

"Tell him to go to hell," Nida snapped, lost in the haze of his grief and rage.

"Message relayed."

He almost laughed, but stopped himself, realizing that it would be hysterical mirth. He pulled himself together and barked more orders to computer and in a matter of seconds red lasers and orange fire was flying back and forth in the space separating the two airships.

"Wolf Squadron launched," Jafael said into his ear, his voice vibrating through the commlink. "Talon Squadron, standing by. Wolf Two, you're my wing."

"Yes, sir," a female voice answered, and a Mirrormist maneuvered to join the lead ship. The Mirrormists and Cataclysms rose as a body together and fired off.

"Deploying Swallows. Blue One, do you read?"

"Yes, scored one!"

"Talon Three, watch out, oh Hyne…"

A Mirrormist detonated in an expanding ball of fire, and through the link Nida heard a fading scream, causing his stomach to clench. On the screen a blue dot winked off.

"Damnit, you bastards!"

"Kudos to you, Blue Five. How did you do that with you lasers on single cycle?"

"Skill, Blue Six. 'Cos I'm that good."

Nida hit a button and the transmissions stopped, instead scrolling down as text in a corner of his screen. Nida ignored it; if there was anything important the computer would tell him. He commenced typing furiously, sending out messages to the leaders and monitoring the battle situation, advising the technicians if necessary. Beside him, Derek, still pasty with shock, sent several lasers hurtling across space to take out a couple of enemy Mirrormists.

The War of the Gardens had officially began. With a big bang.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Headmaster's Office

1035 hours

Xu noticed a blinking red light on her 'link. Meant that she had a message. She clicked on it, and a mechanical voice told her that it had been forwarded to her by Nida. She glowered as a full holo of Deling popped up and asked her in his smarmy, sickeningly superior voice that if she decided to change her mind all she had to do was to say so and reply to his message. She answered vocally in an extremely insulting manner involving just what Deling could do to his body parts with a screwdriver and sent it with an immense feeling of satisfaction. Grabbing her shuriken, she shoved the 'link into her pocket and ran off to the fray.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Control Room, Galbadia Garden

1050 hours

The technician intercepted a message from Balamb Garden addressed to his President and after checking it for bugs and viruses and so on he sent it to Deling's private console. The President, hearing the distinctive 'ding' abandoned the scene of the battlefield he had been watching with interest through a camera and brought up his e-mail. He read Xu's message and whitened to the color of bone. When he reached the part of Xu's suggestion just where he should insert the so-called generosity, he resembled nothing more than a walking corpse. He clenched his fist in fury. How dare she. HOW DARE SHE spurn his generous offer of mercy. In a tantrum he kicked the wall and got a bruised toe for his trouble.

"Bitch," he hissed, deleting the message with shaking hands. "You've got no idea who you're dealing with. Bridge officer, do you hear me?" he yelled in a bad temper, activating the 'link.

The officer grimaced at the tone of his President's voice. More pay cuts for sure. At this rate he would never be able to propose to Tiffany…He kept his voice level. "Yes, sir?"

"No more holding back!" Deling said coldly. He was livid. "Hit them with everything you've got, man! Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." The officer murmured in a placating manner.

He was talking to an empty line. Edigier had severed the connection.

Sighing, he said to his crew, "Well, you heard the President. Get to work, you lazy bums!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Quad, Balamb Garden

1115 hours

So far only the air force had been busy, but that was about to change. Sephiroth readied his sword, mouth thinning, and paratroopers sprung off from the hull of Galbadia Garden, all bearing submachine guns. The greener cadets looked ill; for once their precious magic had abandoned them, and no longer could their Protects keep their fragile selves safe from harm and vicious bullets.

Just to reassure himself, Sephiroth reached deep inside himself, and was relieved to find that his magic was still coiled within waiting for his call. Diablos was gone; he had opted to watch from the safety of the Guardians' plane. Sephiroth could not blame him. Instead, Ebon had volunteered, so now the nightmare was tucked away in a corner of his mind pacing restlessly,

Seeing no reason to hide his heritage any longer, he glanced at Keire, who was in charge of the Quad, for confirmation. The instructor nodded in answer. Sephiroth stepped away from the ranks of his comrades and took in a deep breath. Ignoring Flick's startled, "hey, whatcha doing?" he braced himself for the pain.

It ate through him, and his stomach protested with a wave of nausea. After all, his abilities were artificial, injected into him by a needle, and had never really been part of him. It was right that it affected him like this, to remind him that no matter what he would always be a hybrid.

His wing wrenched free in a spray of crimson and black feathers, the latter gliding lazily through the air. Paine, seeing him, took it as her signal, and after a moment's hesitation, threw her arms up. Unlike him, her face suffused with ecstasy as the change overtook her. Her eyes glowed white with power as the wings, soft and downy and pure as those of the angels of heaven, slid out of her back.

"Ready?" she asked with a smile.

They looked so different standing together. He, tainted, reflected in the ebon sheen of his feathers, her, filled with a heavenly light. Fallen angel and holy saint. But it did not matter. They linked hands and kicked off, sunlight grazing the feathers while their classmates watched in childish wonder from below.

Paine smiled predatorily at the paratroopers, a smile that was reflected on Sephiroth's own face. "Oh, guys. You are so dead."

The Galbadians never knew what hit them.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The IT classroom, 2F

1130 hours

Seifer lifted his gunblade and dropped a G-Private who was terrorizing an injured kid who had broken his arm. "Bloody coward," he sneered in satisfaction. Squall nodded in appreciation and lifted the kid in his arms. "Freya," he addressed one of the instructors, "Please take Gerald to the infirmary."

"Roger, sir," she saluted and jogged away with Gerald in tow, Squall sighed as yet another squad of Galbadians dropped through the hole in the glass. "Xu will be mad. Somehow we keep paying for repairs to that window every time Galbadia Garden strikes."

Seifer smirked. "Well, they never are the most polite of people." He dove under a table, followed by Squall a second later, as a deadly hail of bullets came their way. Seifer tentatively poked his head out, took a few pot shots and ducked again. "Damn it, Squall, how long do you need to find that blasted thing?"

"Shut your eyes!" Squall yelled, and the next moment a little round black thing rolled into the midst of the Galbadians, who looked at it, following it with their eyes. Oldest trick in the book. Then it exploded…in a riot of light and colors. They screamed as the light seared their eyeballs and stunned their brains with an overload of information into submission. Unconsciousness was immediate and inevitable. They slumped to the ground, safely out of the way.

The Seeds carefully emerged and kicked at the still bodies to make sure that they were really down. Those with tougher stomachs began the grisly task of killing the Galbadians while they lay comatose (there was no way the Balamb SeeDs could expend the manpower to guard them) and afterwards Squall and Seifer moved on, leaving the classroom to the hands of the original defenders.

"Hey, Almasy, Leonheart!" Xu's stentorian voice blasted over the comm. dangling from their ears, making both wince simultaneously. "Get your asses over to the hall right now! Paratroopers incoming—shit, I'll talk to you later. Just get here!" There was the sound of a mike being disconnected.

"Well, let's go, then," Squall said, glancing at Seifer out of the corner of his eyes. The two men raced down the corridor to the lift, only to discover that it had been disabled, Wires, crackling with electricity, poked out of the control panel like hissing snakes.

"Ah, hell," Seifer stated eloquently and gathered his legs below him for a leap. Without hesitation he threw himself from the railing and landed on the floor below. Squall followed suit half a second later, and raced off in the direction where things were boiling to a furious climax, complete with blast shots, screams, and breaking glass.

They found the SeeDs engaged in battle, blades, guns and sharp edges flashing. Xu stood somewhere at the back, one hand raised in the air to catch her shuriken as it flew back to her hand, the other firing a gun with deadly accuracy. But she was not unscathed; her cheek had been creased a couple of times by gunfire, and a crude tourniquet had been bound tightly around her leg, and was stained dark crimson. She smiled at them in relief as the two gunbladers approached with blazing guns and flashing swords. Squall paused briefly to slap hands with her and then the two men dived into the fray.

"There's nothing quite like battle, is there?" Seifer asked, his green eyes more alive than Squall had ever seen as he swung his gunblade in a deadly- and for the Galbadian at the wrong end of the blade-and fatal arc. Squall looked at him as he absently fended off his opponent's bayonet. Seifer's face was flushed as though he was high and his eyes sparkled with energy. And he thought of all the dead friends and comrades and enemies slumped on the floor, staining the earth red, the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins…

"You're right," he said. "Nothing quite like it."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Quad

1157 hours

The sorcerer and the sorceress advanced through the aerial battle, pausing only to shoot those who got in their way. Their classmates could deal with the paratroopers; they were after a different objective. Sephiroth knew it was wrong, but it was true; he was in the thick of flying bullets and murderous enemies, and he loved it. Born to kill, born for war; he could not suppress the subconscious stirring in his blood as around them the Galbadians died and cursed them as they fell.

Paine had different thoughts altogether. She had been born to loving parents who had initially resisted her pleas to become a SeeD. From young she had thought of SeeD as a fulfillment of some romantic dream; a result from long nights as a child listening to the stories of Ultimecia and heroes and deep in her heart she too had wanted to be something, someone special. Her parents, wiser, had not been happy. But she had gone, anyway, and at first it seemed like her dream had come true, until on the day her first mission came and she had to kill, not monsters, but people, and she knew then she would never be the same. And worse still now was the gift/ curse that weighed her down even as it elevated her high above the ground and sent the wind spiraling through her hair and whipping against her cheeks. Even now as she drank in the exhilarating joy of flying; of doing what no one ordinary could, and she was special, as she had always imagined she would when she was a child; she wondered if she would ever truly feel happy again.

She glanced at her companion, saw the sideways tilt of his mouth and the look in his green eyes, bright and almost feverish. She had come to realize he was right; she didn't know him at all. The hunger in his eyes still made her flinch every time their gaze rested on her. Maybe because of all the fairy tales she had thought about, of Squall and Rinoa, how they had met, and she had imagined her life could be like that and her Prince Charming would one day come for her. And he had seemed right for her at the time; tall handsome, a sorcerer who could understand, complete with broodingness and tragic past, who needed someone like her to heal him. But he had made her see the truth, and even now the pain of that reality was fading away. If her feelings had truly been real, she understood, she would have suffered a lot longer.

"Are you ready?" he asked, catching sight of her pensive expression. She quickly wiped it away and smiled at him. "Yeah. Let's go kick some Galbadian butt."

He laughed, and together they headed towards the hulking shape of Galbadia Garden in the distance. A paratrooper barred their way. This one seemed to be some sort of high-ranking officer; there was some sort of elaborate insignia over his chest and his armor was matte black. Unlike the others, he did not carry a bayonet, instead some kind of wicked-looking, slim gun with a glossy black surface. Paine had seen it before, in the plans she had stolen from the Galbadian camp. Xu had jokingly named it as the Ray, but now there was nothing funny about being on the wrong end of the barrel. Sephiroth tensed beside her, emerald eyes flicking over the man's face to the Ray. Part of their mission priority was to disable or capture any such gun that came into their vicinity as a blast from it would be immediately fatal to the victim. Plus, it would be useful for study. So far they had managed to kill one Ray-wielding Galbadian. Not surprisingly for a prototype, its numbers were small amidst the submachine guns, bayonets, grenades and the other weapons the Galbadians usually employed.

"Freeze," he said rather predictably. Sephiroth rolled his eyes; Paine was just sourly thinking to herself that at least someone was gaining some humor out of the situation. She had recently realized with some training from Sephiroth that she could pick up strong emotion from other people's minds, and boy, was she receiving a lot from this trooper. He was the brave and stupid type, which meant that he was hoping to shoot them and get all the glory for himself, but at the same time he was scared shitless, and was thinking along the lines of , 'Holy hell, one I could deal with, but two?'

"That is so not a good idea," Paine informed the man. She rather enjoyed dishing out insults to people who needed them.

He snarled and brought the Ray up. Sephiroth winked at him, which only confused him more. With a shaking finger he pulled the trigger, and blazing blue magic siphoned from the mother machine back in Deling City flowed towards them in a straight line. Paine braced herself for impact; then the magic was crawling up her arms and she felt…reenergized. Unlike ordinary people, sorcerers and sorceresses were far more suited to be buried in tons of raw magic since they were practically filled with the stuff themselves. She smiled, hard and bright, like brittle glass, and reached over, snatching it right out from his slackening grasp. His eyes were wide with surprise. With a sigh, Sephiroth imprinted that expression on his face forever by running him through with the Masamune. The man's body tumbled through space and Paine looked away, uneasily aware of the fact that it was Sephiroth, the youth she had thought she had loved, who was killing so casually, without giving a second thought. Because it was in his nature to do so, easily, like a wild beast barely restrained by civility, how he was made and attached together piece by piece after his birth.

Sephiroth looked at her hard out of the corners of his long green eyes, and once again she was aware that some of her negative thoughts must have seeped into his mind. But he did not say anything, and for that she was silently grateful. She did not think she could have handled questioning at the moment.

Through the sky they flew on, and then they were right in front of Galbadia Garden, monstrous, disgorging squadrons of fighter planes that darted past them like silver arrows, but deadlier and deceptively beautiful. At the top, through the glass, they could see the wide eyes of the men within, and already the lasers were whirling to aim at them. Paine carelessly hurled out a hand filled with flame and melted it. A sharp pain penetrated her thigh and she gasped, spinning around in mid-air to see a whole flight of Swallows maneuvering to cut them off. Apparently the crewmen had guessed their intent and were doing their damnedest to stop them.

Sephiroth smiled and leisurely, effortlessly dodged the red streaks of lethal light as they burned through the air. Paine was not so lucky, but a hastily conjured Protect saved her from a lot more pain as she cruised after her friend. Later on the image of him, like this, would forever be imprinted in her mind if though she sought to replace it with a happier memory; he, his hands burning with fire, his mouth tilted in a sideways cant filled with mockery—even later on she did not know whether it was meant to demean himself or his enemies—his expression somehow subdued, and suppressed, and behind his self-imposed bonds something impossibly feral and bloodthirsty threatened to break free and lash out, black wing arched protectively over his shoulder, and around him ships exploded and dying men crossed themselves against the Devil as they burned and fell to the ground trapped in the wreckage of their destroyed crafts.

She did not participate; mostly she healed him when he was wounded and blocked him from lasers and after that blocked any other thoughts from her head; she was afraid to self-examine herself too closely for fear of what she would find. Because he was her friend, damn it, and there was no way she could think about him like that—

"Paine." Sometime the screaming had stopped and now his hand was on her shoulder and his eyes were green pools of concern. She threw off an answer concocted out of her own confused thoughts; she had no idea what she had said, but his eyes grew cool and he moved away. "We need to get going," he said, looking at the shadowy hulk of the airship and for some reason she felt terribly ashamed of herself.

"Yes, let's," she merely said in response, and with a flash of white and black wings, they soared towards the control room.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

1210 hours

The Hall, 1F

The Galbadian force showed no signs of relenting, and less than an hour into the battle Squall was already tired. His arms were sore from repetitive swinging and grazes where bullets had barely missed weren't helping the situation. He ran on pure instinct; it was almost automatic now the way he took a swipe at a G-soldier.

Next to him Seifer fought with a cold fury that was extremely welcome under these conditions; Squall could not help but wonder as he saw the hot rage flare in his friend's eyes whenever he so much as looked at a G-soldier. The two stood back to back, protecting in each other in a symbolism that would have been near impossible twenty years ago.

Xu emerged from a nearly solid wall of Galbadians, her smile a bright contrast to the grim surroundings, "Need a hand?" she asked, deftly spinning her shuriken in one hand. Somewhere she had exchanged hr gun for a bayonet; as she spoke a man lunged for her and she quickly drew the blade across in chest, making him back off to gather himself.

Squall nodded, too focused in his own fight to speak. He tried not to wince as a few feet away a SeeD crumpled to the floor in a heap, a bullet embedded in his heart. His contestant was a G-major who enjoyed nothing better than stabbing him to death. So far his bullet-proof vest was protecting him from any steel missiles the major might care to throw his way and the long reach of his gunblade was preventing him from coming into closer range, but the major was incredibly crafty and amazing at sliding out from beneath the blade like a snake.

"You know what, Leonheart…you're Leonheart, aren't you?" the major asked casually.

"So what if I am?" Squall asked in a bored tone. He was extremely tired of death threats by now; after all, he had to have received one thousand of them by now. A new record if he did say so himself.

"Well, if I were you, I wouldn't be so careless about Almasy there, if you know what I mean," the major said with an air of someone giving very wise advice. Squall stared at him in disbelief. "You're trying to turn me against my own comrade? Sorry, my friend, but no go," he said, shaking his head as he took a chance at impaling the other man's gut.

The major smiled; bright, malicious humor etched in every line of his face. "Didn't figure you could be quite so naïve, Leonheart. Once a traitor, always a traitor."

"I would trust Seifer with my life." Squall returned in his most frigid tone, not liking the major's insinuation that Seifer was betraying them again. "And why would I care about what you're saying anyway?"

The major's lips curved in a knowing smirk. "That's because you know I'm right."

"Ignore him, Squall," Seifer muttered from behind him, his voice low and vibrating with barely suppressed anger. "The only thing Galbadians ever spout is rubbish."

The major laughed. "That's what you would like to think, Almasy. But I would figure if you really cared, if you had really turned about…" He aimed a low and vicious stab at Squall, who parried and saved himself from having his intestines spilled out. "You would have told Leonheart the truth."

"I have been honest with him." Seifer seemed to have forgotten about his own rule; his voice was brittle and sharp as a glass dagger and intense as he spoke.

"Have you?" the major inquired softly. "Deling told me everything, Almasy. Tell me, Leonheart…did you ever find out who gave away the little girl to our men? If you never, Leonheart, now you know why…"

Squall would have liked to reply cuttingly, but the truth was that at the mention of Avine his gut had frozen into a solid chunk of ice. He tried to recover, but doubt and indecision held his tongue and behind him Seifer's muscles had tensed perceptibly.

"Starting to believe, Leonheart?" the major asked and started to laugh.

"Bastard!" Seifer screamed, losing it. He whirled away from behind Squall, his trench coat flapping in similar agitation. Squall recognized the danger even as he spun to exchange places with Seifer. The other man, blind with rage, shoved aside the G-major's blade with his bare hand, crimson blood spurting from the cuts, and plunged the gunblade deep into the man's chest. More blood spilled out, staining his hands redder than ever. The major didn't even cry out. His eyes locked onto Seifer's, and as he stiffened in death triumph gleamed in them; triumph that froze onto his features as he died. Seifer screamed in frustration and yanked his blade free; his victory over the man had lasted but a second, but this man's victory over him would last forever, and he knew it.

"Seifer, you fool!" Xu hissed, lurching forward.

Seifer looked behind him blindly, the red mists clearing from his vision. Squall was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly slack in surprise. It was the first chink Seifer had ever seen in the man's armor, and briefly Seifer wondered why for once Squall had allowed himself this weakness. Then Squall sighed, so softly Seifer barely heard him, and slid to the ground, off the wet and bloody blade of the blue-clad G-SeeD who stood behind him, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

Squall was dead.

Then Xu had taken Squall's place and quietly she snarled at him, "We'll talk later." He barely registered her words; his mind was still whirling with the suddenness of it all, how his rashness had led to this, and mechanically his arm rose and fell and his hands grew increasingly darker—

Symbolism, he thought, and let himself be carried away by the grief and revenge that sprung free from his heart in a rushing torrent.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

1233 hours

The Cafeteria

Rinoa hurled her projectile and watched without satisfaction as it decapitated a G-soldier before it returned to her hand. For her, there had never been any joy in killing. Especially not troops who had once been loyal to her father, men the same nationality as herself. She could not shake off the feeling that she was deserting her own nation.

But what has Galbadia ever done for me? She thought bitterly and shifted her aim a little to take out an enemy soldier intent on sticking his sword into a cadet's back. They had taken her father away through work; in the years after her mother's death he had buried himself in is career and left her alone and wanting in the huge house; giving her every conceivable luxury he thought she might need but his own love and attention.

But you are a Galbadian, through birth, if nothing else, her traitorous thoughts informed her slyly. She shoved it away violently and focused on the unpleasant task at hand, when suddenly the world tilted around her, and she had to grab a corner of a table to steady herself and gather her thoughts; and when she did, she wished she hadn't, because then she knew, and it was too horrible to comprehend.

After Rinoa had lost her powers to Avine, the sorceress-knight link between Squall and Rinoa had dissolved with a few lingering side effects. Strong emotion could be felt on both sides; it had pros and cons, as it could alert the other if either was in danger, but could also transmit emotion at inconvenient times. There was the occasion just after their marriage when Squall was still Commander of the Garden and he had been at a serious meeting to sign the treaty between the nations. Rinoa, bored, had been at home reading a trashy romance novel and some of the more sordid words had drifted through their peculiar connection. Squall, who had been in the midst of thanking Galbadia's acting President for his cooperation, had been overcome with a severe coughing fit and had to beg to be excused for a few moments outdoors, whereupon he severely chastised her through the remnants of their bond. She could not possibly hear his words, but she had sensed his laughing disapproval. Since their marriage husband and wife, even when apart, were still able to affectionately bless each other with their love.

Now she felt, through the psychic bond, a searing moment of agony, shock and confusion, and after that a gaping void where Squall's presence had used to reside, comforting in its warmth. Something terrible had happened to him, and she had a notion what. She tried to tell herself it was ridiculous, irrational, that afterward she would tell Squall about it and then they would laugh together, but deep in her heart she already mourned him.

She looked at her ex-countrymen and any pity in her that had lingered suddenly vanished in a tsunami of rage and sorrow. Raising her hand, she sent her weapon flying again, and the expression on her face was now akin to that of a marble statue; impassive, stern and cold.

(Rest in peace, love.)

………………………………………………………………………………………………

1246 hours

The Control Room, Galbadia Garden

Glass shattered as the duo made their dramatic entrance into the room, spraying jagged shards everywhere. The crewmen ducked, arms over their faces and chests, braving the deadly storm. Sephiroth kicked a chair—with a technician in it— out of his way, settling down and folding his wing, looking around with an expression of practiced disdain. Paine knew it wasn't real because she could sense determination rolling off him in waves—determination not to hurt any more human beings than necessary.

"You'll never get away with this!" one of them said in a trembling tone, his eyes continually darting to something behind Sephiroth and Paine. Paine reached out and smacked the guy gently on the side of his face and his legs promptly folded, depositing him on the ground in an undignified heap. Meanwhile, Sephiroth glanced around only to look down the gleaming barrel of a rifle. At the safe end was a Galbadian SeeD, in his late twenties, standing his ground, resolution in his eyes. The soldier in Sephiroth silently applauded his bravery, darned inconvenient though it was.

"One move and I shoot," the SeeD snarled, showing no signs of fear. "Tell your girlfriend to put her hands up. One word of magic and you're toast, got that?"

"Loud and clear," Sephiroth drawled. Paine came up beside him, and he could feel her expectant gaze on him. Waiting for him to do something. He wished he could have as much confidence in himself as she did in him.

He had to place trust in his reflexes, to dodge the bullet meant for him at close range and render the SeeD's weapon useless. Bracing himself, he snapped his hand out like a whiplash and true to form, the SeeD fired. At the same time Sephiroth dived down, his hand closing spasmodically around the gun, and he curled into himself, as the bullet, misfired, landed at his feet. Then his feet kicked out again at the SeeD's legs and the young man went down, hitting his head on the console. He let out a little cry and shook away the grogginess, forcing himself to stay conscious. Sephiroth didn't let him. Standing up, he delivered a vicious blow to the SeeD's head with the tip of his steel-toed boot. The SeeD slumped. Just in case, Sephiroth cast Sleep on him as well.

He glanced back to see the other technicians huddled together shaking. One had snuck back to the computer and was now being soundly pummeled by Paine. She cast Sleep as well, and all of the crewmen fell down.

"That was easy. Too easy," Sephiroth muttered, crossing over to the console. Their mission had been to disable the Garden; in case Balamb lost and had to retreat, Galbadia wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. He rearranged a few Junctions in his mind until he was immune to lightning. "Keep an eye on the entrance, will you? And smash that camera."

Paine nodded and hefted her gun. She might be a sorceress, but she still felt most comfortable using more conventional weapons. She took aim and shattered the little security camera perched on the ceiling above the lift.

Sephiroth dug his hands into the metal, his strength enhanced by some suitable Junctions and smashed a few monitors. He ripped away the service panels, and removed handfuls of wires with one good yank, unfazed by the sparks of deadly voltage leaping from the ragged end of one wire to another. He stuck his hand in again and sent a jet of water leaping inside. There was a fizz as the computer short-circuited.

A red Klaxon alarm began to sound. Paine looked up in alarm. "Sephiroth, perhaps we should get out of here," she said urgently.

"Intruders on the bridge! Emergency! All troops to the bridge! I repeat…" A mechanical voice shouted above the din.

"Yeah, I'm done." Sephiroth sent a final plume of fire coursing over the console, fusing the metal together and joined her in leaping out of the window. They collided most ignominiously with the air and bounced back into the control room. Thankfully, frantic beating of wings kept them from landing on top of the computer Sephiroth had fried.

"Hyne, what's going on here?" Paine breathed fearfully.

"Force filed," Sephiroth snarled under his breath. "Some sort of backup—not controlled from the bridge—we'll never disable it…"

"Hell," Paine said with feeling.

They were trapped on a ship that was home base to their worst enemies, and worst, people who had made Avine what she was, people who would be overwhelmed with joy to see them strung up and quartered.

With a groan, the lift lifted to the top, bearing a dozen Galbadian soldiers all armed to the teeth. There was another grinding sound and a second lift cycled upward, groaning under its heavy load of half dozen grim-faced Galbadian SeeDs.

"Oh my god," Sephiroth muttered, and he and Paine looked at each other in horror as the troops descended on them mercilessly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Quad, Balamb Garden

1324 hours

Daniel fought hand to hand with a G-SeeD a little older than him, all swagger and gold-dyed hair, which didn't suit him and clashed horribly with his uniform. Daniel brought his knee up in a blow between the guy's legs that had the youth doubling over, and finished with a flamboyantly high kick to his head that left him out like a light. Daniel didn't feel good killing him, so he pinched a pressure point on the guy's neck to leave him unconscious and moved on.

Some distance away Keire was fighting, his gunblade flashing in a series of elaborate strokes that usually ended up with the Galbadian coming apart in blood and flesh. For the first time Daniel could remember, Keire wasn't exchanging one-line witticisms with the foe; his features were pinched, tight and harassed as though he was worrying himself over something, though his moves were as flowing as ever.

Daniel shrugged and beat up another Galbadian. Not his problem; in battle it was every man for himself. He flinched back from a glancing blow on his chin and returned the favor. Somewhere a bullet flashed by and clipped him on his ear. Wiping the blood away he gave a good roundhouse that spread his opponent out in the floor.

Keire waited tensely, for the sorcerer-sorceress team to return the transmission that meant that they had completed their mission, but they maintained radio silence. In frustration he shot his enemy point-blank in the forehead and mechanically fought a second one that took his place. He was concerned about them—not least about the fact that what happened to Avine Swifter could very well happen to them too of they were ever captured. If so, they were better off dead. Better than being alive to see and feel their bodies and minds being violated.

(Hyne be with you two.)

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Air Control, 4F

1336 hours

Elenor had never felt so fatigued in her life. Her head throbbed on her right temple where a Galbadian lieutenant had bashed her with the butt of his gun, and blood trickled from her scalp down her cheek like red tears. She was bruised and battered everywhere; her body felt like it was in hell.

And it was hell; the screams of the dying, the red blood splashing on the tarmac, dying the ground brick red. When they screamed, she couldn't tell who was Galbadian and who was Balambian. Perhaps, she thought, that should tell us something. When men die, it doesn't matter what race we are, we are just mortals at the end.

Pain boiled along her arm; her opponent had managed to lodge his foil into the crook of her left arm. She jerked away and the thin blade snapped, the jagged edge protruding from her flesh like white bone. She shuddered in revulsion and knocked him away; he fell to the ground, already scrabbling to get up. She stomped on his skull with her boot and he went limp. She yanked the broken foil away, ignoring the blood that oozed out, gaining momentum, and ripped the edge off from the Galbadian's tunic, tying it tight around the wound. Feeling very remote and detached from the situation, she cut his throat with one of her katanas and walked away.

The bullet found its way into her thigh as she traded blows with a swordsman. Bloody coward; some sniper had decided to take potshots at her while her back was turned. The leg wouldn't support her; she fell to one knee. The pain touched something wild within and a howl erupted from her throat. The man who had been about to skewer her paused for a second in surprise.

It was the last mistake he would ever make. Elenor smiled at him as her body lost control and altered at an amazing rate as her Limit Break took effect. In less than a second, the spot where Elenor had been had been replaced by a wolf with silver-gray fur and yellow eyes. In a flash of argent, rippling fur she was gone. The swordsman cast about, and died as the great wolf sprung up behind him, chewing through his jugular. Growling ominously, the beast stalked off in search of more prey.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Control Room

1355 hours

"Control, look out!"

Startled, Nida's head jerked up as Jafael's voice burned into his brain. A Mirrormist hovered close outside the transparisteel dome that protected them from guns. It had red stripes painted on its solar array wings, so it was Galbadian in origin. Nida wondered why Jafael had deemed fit to tell Nida about it.

Then a Mirrormist, blue-striped, with the insignia of the Flight Commander painted on the body, flashed towards the Galbadian jet. To Nida's great surprise, the other Mirrormist didn't budge an inch. It seemed to be aiming at something, and Nida's blood ran cold as he said crisply, "Computer, all shield power to the north-east side, now!"

"I feel it is my duty to warn you that doing so will result in…"

"Just do it!" Nida yelled.

The Galbadian Mirrormist's guns focused on a target. Jafael fired upon it, but it was apparent that he could not use high-intensity lasers for fear of harming the airship. The enemy plane had no such reservations. A laser, red and pulsing with energy, leaped out, even as its rear engines exploded. Nida frowned. Normally the rear shields would have deflected the lasers. What…?

"Give me a reading of that ship," he said very fast, tapping the red dot on his screen. The computer dutifully presented a diagram. Nida scanned it; Derek leaned over his shoulder, youthful features scrunched in concern. Blue, representation of machine-power, flooded the nose of the Mirrormist, while behind it was entirely devoid of anything. Nida understood; the pilot had diverted all shield power to the front, as he had done so earlier…and in such a perfect position for ramming…

The enemy Mirrormist hurtled towards Balamb Garden, and exploded against the hull, hurling debris and fire in all direction.

"Suicide bombers," Nida murmured in outrage; how could Galbadia Garden force its troops to sacrifice themselves?

"Pilot Deehryn…" the computer chimed. He noticed a red alarm in the corner of his screen; he clicked on it. "Rear shields are down; repairs commencing."

They had lost. Should Galbadia Garden fire…linked blasts from the Mirrormists…a stray, misfired missile…Balamb Garden would go down. In battle the enemy did not give you time to recover. They took advantage and fired when you were at your weakest.

"Nida!" It was Xu. "What was that?"

He told her. She was silent. "We've lost, haven't we?" she said eventually. "Orders to abort?' he asked, not liking her tone, filled with despair. It did not sound like her; she sounded beaten and the old Xu would never have bowed before anyone.

"Order everyone to withdraw," she said finally. "Ask the Wolf Squadron and the Talon Squad to cover our departure."

"Go where?"

"We've talked about it before," she said, voice clipped. "Right after you give the order, disable all radios, including ours. We don't want the Galbadians still on board to report to their superiors. Then put the force field in effect to repel the paratroopers."

"The sabotage team has not reported in," Nida said wearily.

Xu sighed; it tickled his ear. "We have no choice, Nida. Damn it, what would you have me do?! They should be either dead or captured by now. We…simply can't afford to retrieve them. But send the message to them anyway. If they can, they will come back to us and they know where to go."

Nida bowed his head; with a heavy heart he issued the order. Derek, downcast, manipulated the controls and sent the Garden into a gentle descent to protect its vulnerable side and fired up the engines. The machinery grinded and hummed, and blasted away. There was a shimmer and a blue-green shield surrounded the airship. Nida contacted all the transmitters still operational and then sent a detonation signal that disrupted all communication systems within range. Feeling like a horrible coward, Nida set his jaw and steered the Garden away from the aerial battle still exploding in the sky around them.

…………………………………………………….………………………………………...

The Control Room, Galbadia Garden

1325 hours

Paine gulped; there was no way out. She tucked her guns away; here, if she missed, the bullet would ricochet off the walls and more likely than not hit herself instead of a Galbadian. She drew her sword and with a thought sent a spark of magical lightning coursing down it. Next to her, Sephiroth drew the Masamune; it was shining with a hot pale light the color of bone.

The Galbadians advanced, raising their guns. Paine called on her power and instantly multi-colored shields sprung up to envelope both of them. She instantly felt drained; her knees almost buckled but he managed to keep steady. Sephiroth looked at her and realization washed across his face. The Sting was sucking their magic dry, especially whenever they used it…

But without the Protects they would be dead. The alien cells in him did not make him immortal; a hailstorm of bullets at he and Paine and they would be dead. He would have to make the best of the situation. Leaving Paine leaning against a wall, he raced at them with the Masamune. The Protect repelled their bullets and dulled the edge of their blades. Meanwhile the Masamune danced among them, dangerous and dealing death like a long finger of starlight. Where it flickered, blood spattered against the walls and ceiling. He was fast; too fast, and the last thing they saw before Masamune closed their eyes forever was a blur of silver and black.

At last they were all dead. Sephiroth shuddered, drawing air into his lungs, and the stench was reminiscent as that of a butcher's shop. He looked at the carnage he had wrought and he was shocked to realize that he felt nothing at all. No, he could not learn to enjoy it again—this men, this men, they were just following orders—

Paine looked at him as he walked towards her, and she shrank away. She was hugging her knees and she looked very young and fragile. He went to touch her, but saw the blood on his glove and pulled it away.

"I know," he said, and looked down.

Then the commlink blasted out with a wave of static, and a voice distorted by distance shouted, "All SeeDs, abort mission! Withdraw now to Location Alpha Three Gamma!" With a hiss, it shut down and went dead. Sephiroth cursed bitterly. There was no way they could escape without shutting down the force field. He stared out the view glass; in the distance he could see that Balamb Garden had turned; he could not help but feel abandoned.

The Protect wavered and vanished; Paine, her face white and exhausted, slumped against the wall. The lift grinded again, and Sephiroth looked up, feeling suddenly very tired, as yet more soldiers crowded the Control Room. He lifted the Masamune and stood up, swaying, trying to recall his bloodlust; Hyne help him, he would bring down as many as he could into hell with him—

"Stop."

The soldiers lowered their guns, and Sephiroth leaned on the Masamune, both sides eyeing each other warily. A lean, dapper man in the prime of his life emerged from the ranks of his men; he wore clear, translucent body armor, and held a black shock prod in his hand. There was an aura of unmistakable authority about him. He appraised Sephiroth and smiled craftily. "Yes, that's him alright. Men, stand down."

There was some grumbling and mutters, but ultimately they dared not disobey a direct order. They left via the lift and Sephiroth eyed the man watchfully. He sheathed the shock prod and smiled. Sephiroth did not trust that smile; he would sooner trust crocodile tears.

"My name is Angus Feder," the man said cheerfully, "The Head of Military Affairs, in case you're interested."

Sephiroth wasn't, "What do you want?" he demanded abruptly.

Feder laughed. "You're perceptive, aren't you. I'm here on behalf of my President. A lot of parties happened to be interested in you. You've taken out some of our best, and I must say, professionally speaking, that I'm impressed. How about it? We could really use someone like you."

"Let me think about it. Wait, I've got it. No," Sephiroth said flatly, and his voice was cold and biting like ice. Somewhere around polar degrees.

Feder shrugged. "Figures. I had to try anyway; you'll understand. What a pity. For the little girl and for you. Be seeing you." Jauntily he waved and slapped a gas mask over his face.

"No!" Sephiroth shouted and lunged for him. Bt already the gas was hissing out, and filling the cramped chamber. He held his breath for as long as he could while he stumbled to Paine's side; he shook her but she was already unresponsive and dead to the world. He crouched next to her, glaring at Feder with bitter hatred, and at last his screaming, oxygen-deprived lungs compelled him to take a breath.

Instantly he felt woozy and his surroundings spun. Miserably he clutched at a chair and as it slid away under his death grip he wondered if he had selfish to refuse even though it was the right thing to do; now he had put Paine at the mercy of the Galbadians—her worst fear…

Another breath. He saw Feder smirking through the clear plastic mask, applauding his efforts mockingly; both of them knew that resistance was futile. But Sephiroth refused to give up; thoughts of the lab from his younger days (cold, cold needles against shivering skin oh the bite and burn) spurred him on and he hurled himself recklessly at the force field.

He hit it hard; and it knocked the breath out of him. He never felt himself fall to the floor; he didn't feel the impact.

"You're a fighter," Feder said softly, staring at the still bodies. "You'll need to be for what she's got in store for you." Speaking into his radio, he summoned a couple of men to drag the bodies away.

The sky was clear now save for the returning Galbadian planes. Feder smiled again. "You may run. You may hide, Balamb," he whispered in promise of what was to come. "But the world is small, and we'll find you anyway."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Author's Ending Note: 20/12/04: WHOO-HOO!!!! See, I kept my promise—my longest chapter yet, and according to my Microsoft word count 10,000 words long, filled with Sephiroth gumminess and loads of action, more evil Galbadian plotting, bucketfuls of angst—everything I've got to deliver! Man, you really owe me loads of gratitude for all the hard work I've done for your sakes so you can read yourselves silly. I'll be willing to accept your thanks in the form of happy reviews. So please click that li'l GO button at the bottom left of the screen and humor me. Thanks so much for reading my work. Keep an eye out for the next chapter, 'Avengement' which hopefully will be up by the end of the year. And a profuse apology to anyone who might love Squall so much he or she wants to strangle me for murdering him. (Bows and vanishes in a cloud of violet smoke before any pitchfork-bearing peeps come along. Why violet? Because I say so.)

T. Axile signing out

(And in case I don't get to put up a chapter on Christmas, Merry Christmas to everyone who read this, and may your presents be plenty.)

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thanks to:

Noacat: Thanks for the positiveness. Actually I thought the beginning of Part One a bit on the lame side but now you've restored my appreciation in myself. Also glad to know that the point I was trying to get across about Seph hadn't ended up buried in tons of mush.

Anasazi Darkmoon: Keep those fingernails on, I'm sure you'll need them someday. Like, maybe to scratch me to death for killing Squall off. Hey, how much have you chewed off already? looks interested. Hope you appreciated the part where Xu insulted the jackass.

The WyldeWestWind: Holds hands up. Ok, if you're pleased with this chapter, please review! And tell Seph it's his own fault he's so cool that everyone loves him and calls him pet names.

tetraflash777: WHOA! Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews and the evaluations of every single chapter! huggles, hands over cookies and cream. You're so wonderful! I'll take note of what you said and try to improve on my chapters. Yeah, after I finish TIAL I plan to do a massive overhaul of the whole story. And I know what you mean about Diablo 2. It's FANTASTIC! Pity my sorceress got wiped off because off a bug in my CD. Argh.

Zack M. Strith: Of course. Can't throw out our favorite flower girl, can we? I'm thinking of doing one in the next chapter or the next next one. So watch out!

Hopeful Wings: WHACK! WHACK! hands back fan. Hope that worked. (somewhere Seph is screaming.) Uh, don't forget to be gentle to Seph. He might not like being glomped. smirk.

meowwl: Glad to know I've claimed the soul of yet another victim. (evil laughter sounds) thanks for the notification of my misspelling. I'll watch out for it in future chapters and in the overhaul. The only thing that displeases me is…just how did you take so long to discover it???? Was it me, or was it you? goes quietly insane and has to be removed from the scene.

Author's alter (and saner) ego: Don't worry, she'll recover in a few hours. Ta!

………………………………………………………………………………………………


	23. 21: Avengement

A Word From The Author: 21/12/04-Thank you for your support. I truly apologize for offing Squall, cos I really like him, but then I thought for Seifer it would really hit home if Squall was killed that there would be consequences for his actions. Actually I did spend some time debating whether I should kill Squall or not, but in the end I did it. Well, don't say I didn't warn you! More character deaths still ahead…maybe one or two more. Of course, it won't be Seph. He IS the main char after all. Okay, story time!

Oh yeah, remember in Chapter Ten I promised that every ten chapters I would put up a summary for the unfortunate peeps who can't keep up with my plot? K, here goes!

SINCE CHAPTER TEN: Sephiroth spoke to Bahamut, who seems to have lots in store for him. Seifer returned from Coruthary and reported what he had seen to Xu, that the entire city is under siege and that Avine was there. Laguna was killed in Esthar by the son of Angus Feder, Jeremy. Sephiroth takes and passes his practical exam and befriends a new GF, Ebon the Nightmare. Xu arranged a field exam with twofold purposes: to defeat Galbadia amd get Avine back. Sephiroth was part of a team to retrieve Avine; he was successful, but unfortunately Avine had gone insane because she was also injected with Jenova cells during her imprisonment and Sephiroth killed her. Adele/Jenova popped up and had a big battle with Sephiroth, fleeing after he summoned the Phoenix. They joined up with the rest of the SeeDs in the mission and found out that it was one big setup. The siege was fake and Coruthary was already in the hands of the Galbadians. So after the SeeDs had infiltrated the city, they were ambushed and barely escaped with their lives. They returned to Garden in time for the grad party. Sephiroth and Paine passed their exam. Sephiroth told Xu and Elenor his story and Paine produced the plans of the Sting, which steals magical energy, which she had stolen. Meanwhile Skeiz, Laguna's rival, was elected President and Quistis escaped Esthar in a Mirrormist. She returned to Garden to find that Ivan, Selphie's and Irvine's son, had been kidnapped and used by Deling as leverage to stop Trabia from allying with Balamb. Galabdia Garden engaged in battle with Balamb and the latter lost. In the duration, Sephiroth and Paine were captured by Galbadian troops. Squall was dead, stabbed from behind. Balamb fled to a secret location.

Chapter Twenty: Avengement

It is dark. I'm hanging in the void and it stretches out for eternity. Pinpricks of white light shine in the eternal night but is quickly snuffed out one by one. I sense that it will not stop until all light is purged from this place.

Where am I? I wonder. I try to move, but my limbs seem immobile. I struggle against the invisible bonds to no avail. I do not like this place. It is cold and makes me tremble within, shrinking back from the fierce eradication of the starlight from the empty plain. I look down; at my feet is a pool, gleaming onyx. With effort I shift my boot and ripples stir throughout the flat surface. In the depths something twitches and approaches the surface. In it, I can see the light of two golden eyes, flat and cold as the metal itself.

My son, the wind whispers, and it echoes around me as I scream.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(Balamb Garden)

Xu felt like crying as she sat alone behind her desk, eyes staring into the distance. They had all been prepared for defeat, but it had been a shock when it had come. Perhaps because before they had always won. The classic victory; good against evil. But now the tables were turned; the odds were against them. It was a case of overwhelming numbers and superior force.

What have we done to deserve this? She thought numbly, and as the thought crossed her mind the camera indicated that there were two people at her doorstep. She let them in; they were Elenor and Deckard, both wearing somber expressions. "What's the death toll?" she asked dully, not wanting to know, but she had to update her profiles. And send letters of condolences to their relatives, pensions…she sighed. She dreaded the letter-writing the most, explaining to the parents why their children had to die.

"We're still not sure," Elenor said carefully, as though Xu was some fragile china doll she was afraid to break. "We're currently in the process of recovering and identifying the bodies. We've laid them out in the hall for now but when the sun comes up we'll have to move them. Also…the sabotage team is missing, and some of the pilots got shot down and were left behind; since we are maintaining radio silence we can't contact them to find out if there are survivors. Anyway, roughly three-eighths of the air force is down, forty-two instructors, over a hundred cadets are dead, but most of our junior SeeDs have come through. Commander Wyerheir is laid up in the infirmary getting a bullet out of her ribs. Plus the Galbadian prisoners have been trussed up and left in the shooting gallery in the Training Center. Rather cramped, but there's no help for it."

Xu groaned and rubbed her temples. "You mean to say we have somehow misplaced two of the most powerful beings on the planet? Where people willing to exploit them without any qualms are likely to find them? What happened?"

Elenor looked troubled. "I don't know, Xu. They entered the Galbadian airship, they were following orders—then after that they stopped communications and when the Mirrormist blew our shield dome to smithereens, I stopped paying attention. I wasn't in a position to notice anyway," she added, referring to the fact that she had still been in lycanthropic form at the time.

Xu sighed again, more deeply. "Question anyone who might know of their whereabouts. I hope to Hyne for their sake that if they got captured, they're already dead. Can't be too pleasant."

"That's a sorry sentiment, Xu," Deckard said softly. "And…if they died…who would get their powers? The Galbadians?"

Xu paled. "Will the Galbadians really be as ruthless as that? To go to such an extreme? Oh…lord." She grabbed her datapad and stood up. "Well, it's no use speculating on something that might not have happened. I'll be going to the Hall to see what I can do."

"Are you sure?" Elenor asked uncertainly.

"I can handle it," Xu said firmly.

She wasn't so sure when the three of them arrived at the Hall later on. The sickly sweet stench of decay was very strong on the evening breeze, and made Xu's stomach turn over. She imagined that it would be ten times worse in the noontime. Mustering her courage, she looked at the rows of dead bodies, some of them wearing faces she had known well, some her students, friends, colleagues. Less than twenty-four hours ago they had been fired up and willing to fight for a cause they believed in; now they were dead. Xu wondered if they had known they were going to die the moment they had decided to place their future in SeeD. Many of them were still in their twenties, thirties, in their teens even, armored in youth and confidence. Oh yes, they had known death would come to find them eventually, but it had seemed so far away that it was still a shock when it arrived at last. She stared at their broken, battered faces; most of them simply wore an expression of poignant surprise.

Slowly she walked down the rows, as if paying homage to her SeeDs. Others were there too, searching for each other, their loved ones; the lucky ones running into each others' arms and sobbing in relief; the unlucky ones kneeling at the sides of friends, family, or a lover, touching their cold hands with a look of disbelief etched into their faces. She halted as she came to Rinoa and Arne, next to Squall, who was laid out unceremoniously beneath an off-white sheet blackened by congealing blood. Her captain had never looked quite so young before, his face streaked with tears and his nose red and runny. In a matter of days he had lost his father and his grandfather, two of the people he had loved most in the world.

Rinoa, in contrast, was not crying; her face was whiter than the bone beneath. Xu could practically see the blue-green veins that marbled her skin. She sat quietly looking at her husband, occasionally reaching out a hand to touch him. Not once did she draw back the sheet; as though she was afraid that if she did it would make it real. Xu, feeling as though she was intruding on their grief, moved silently away, and nearly knocked Seifer over. The blond man had been skulking silently a few steps away from Squall, so still that he could have been a statue. He looked at Xu, and she almost flinched at his gaze. It seemed dead, so empty that it seemed that his soul had taken flight and left the shell standing there.

"…Seifer?" she asked quietly. "Are you alright?"

He shifted his bleak stare away and she was relieved. "Of course I'm not," he said harshly. "Will people stop asking me such stupid questions! And why would you care anyway? It's so obviously my fault, as usual. Go find someone else to bother!"

She was taken aback at the viciousness of his reaction. "Seifer, no one is—"

He cut her off, "Just leave me alone. That's the one thing I ask. Can't you do even that?" Angrily he turned his back to her and suddenly found the sky very interesting. Troubled, she left him standing there, head raised, like some tragic and anguished character from a play.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(? Somewhere in Deling City)

In the pod, the body suddenly jerked, and thrashed violently against its bonds. A red light flashed in warning, and the scientist in charge quickly jabbed a button to release a potent sleeping gas into the glass chamber. The specimen relaxed and sank back into the clear, jelly-like gel after a short-lived struggle, apparently subdued. The woman standing beside the holding cell appeared satisfied, pressing her long-nailed hands against the glass closest to the specimen's face. "Is he ready now?" she asked.

The scientist studied the specimen's vital signs, then nodded in approval. "Go ahead. You know what you need to do, I trust."

"Leave us in privacy," the woman ordered.

The man bowed in respect, gathered in staff and left the laboratory instantly. The woman smiled; sharp-edged, like a shark's. Folding her body across the transparent capsule, she gazed at the youth floating below her with sleepy, admiring eyes. Her son, her pride. Beautiful he was, physically at least. It was his mental state she was not pleased with. Her son, who had obeyed her every order, who had been so properly obedient and adoring, so ruthless and efficient—and the Planet had twisted her hard work into this. He had become soft, soft and merciful and useless, she thought darkly…human. Less than what he could be, and her child had so much potential…No! It would not be wasted. She would have to be patient to reconfigure his mind all over again, but she was confident she could do it. Spineless he might have become, but he—as all of their kind did—an innate love for the hunt, the pounce before the kill. Say what you will, the sorcerers and sorceresses of the old times, when they were strong in numbers and power, were predators.

Lovingly she stroked the glass over her son's sleeping face, her face contorting into a scowl when her attention was drawn unwillingly to the manacle the Planet had placed on her beloved child; to mark him as its own, branding him like cattle. She could not remove it; oh yes, she had tried, only to be repelled by the force of the Planet's anger, so strong even across the light-years of the galaxy. She flexed her red and blistered fingers bitterly as she stared at her son's face, peaceful in sleep.

"I'll make you strong again," she told him; confident that somehow through the odd bond they shared he would hear her and listen. He might not appreciate it now, but someday, she knew, he would thank her for it.

Shutting her eyes, she concentrated, her son's mind opening easily before her; he could not keep out one who knew him better than he knew himself. She sent a ripple of consciousness shivering into his brain, and sat back to let the dream unfold.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Remember…

Head lifts up wearily…arms hanging limp from bonds. A change is coming, coming for me…what does it portend?

I can see light, vibrant in the darkness, but it is false light. It does not warm me, rather my flesh crawls with goosebumps. I don't want it to touch me; looking into the swirling colors makes me feel sick and nauseous. But it's coming—approaching, closer, and I can't move or stop it—

Explosion…falling…

Life.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(Sixteen years ago, Wutai)

He advanced across the battlefield, and the Wutaians—the epitome of fierce pride—glared at him behind crossed katanas and raised crossbows. The saying went that ever since he had been transferred to the war zone all Wutaians knew when to shoot and ask questions later when they saw green eyes glowing with the light of Mako. He gave them a brief smile and a salute; the Wutaians were, if nothing, brave and proud warriors, and he was honored to be considered their ultimate enemy.

His own soldiers—most cowards, they were from Midgar after all—crowded behind him, content to let him carry out the intimidation process. He sneered to himself; sometimes he wondered if there was any meaning to what he was doing now, at the head of a so-called, laughably, Midgar's grand and formidable army. It felt like he was fighting the entire war by himself, his spirit inspiring his officers to follow in his footsteps. Or that was what the campaign posters said anyway.

Without the signal ever being given, the two armies thundered across the battlefield; old, crusty veterans hardened and battle-scarred, the hot-blooded youths seeking glory. He slashed his way through the wall of bodies blocking his path, their blood blending in with the Wutaian colors they wore. This was what he found meaning in; the dance of blade and master in an impossibly intricate step that only he and the Masamune could ever understand.

He did not know how long he fought, but every kill seemed to rejuvenate his tired soul and he drank it up; feeding on the fear of his victims. They called him Death, clad in black and armed with a long sword striped red and silver. Eventually a shrill trumpet note cut through the haze of bloodlust and he dazedly shook it off. He felt a surge of disappointment so strong when the white flag appeared, smeared with blood and grime, that he was momentarily stunned. _We have won,_ he told himself, but some part of him would have liked to continue, feeling the Masamune sever through bone and tendon—

His face felt wet; not with tears, he realized, as he touched it, but with blood. He tilted his head back, like a starving man, and blood, still warm and with a metallic tang, dribbled onto his lips. He licked them. Tasting the blood of Wutai. Her people's faces contorted in rage and fear, but Lord Godo had spoken. There would be no more killing here. Wutai would surrender; for the first time in their glorious history.

You were strong then, a female voice told him, sweet like the outer coating of honey doctors put on their pills, but inside, bitter poison. Back in the present, he shook the last vestiges of the violent memory away in denial. In the past, he had not found love, mercy or kindness; he had been different…

My son, she said in a disappointed voice, and it took everything in his soul not to flinch back and drop to his knees and cry for her forgiveness, just as he had done many times before. I only wish the best for you…perhaps you need to remember more.

No more! Mother! Please!

When you have been prepared, she promised, her powerful voice echoing in the barren emptiness of his mind. You will see how wrong you have been.

She swept out imperiously with a sharp rush of wind, leaving him alone, and broken, to face his next memory in anguish, and in desperation he called for help.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Aeris!

Her name vibrated through the strange bond that held soul and guardian together, and with a start Aeris broke from her mediating trance, sensing that Sephiroth was in trouble. His summons; she shivered at the heartrending pain in his tone. Something had hurt him; hurt him badly; she must go!

Aeris sought the mind of her murderer, his light weak and ebbing in the multifaceted soul of Gaia. Her heart ached with concern; the Planet had assigned her to be his guardian through the darkness, as the Cetra had nurtured the misguided to compassion millennia ago when they were at their full strength. She could not fail him, could not let him fall to the darkness again…not when she was so close! Not when he had found all the things that made his life worthwhile.

The flower girl tried to calm her racing pulse; only an illusion her mind, still discontent with death, conjured up, she knew. She let the soothing pulse of the Planet, somewhat disharmonious with urgency, weave its way through her mind, showing her the way. Aeris missed the Lifestream, where she could communicate directly with the Planet, but she would take the best she could. The Planet's song swirled around the troubled darkness of the young man's mind, and where the emerald strains touched and caressed, the shadows eased and faded. Aeris almost recoiled from the dark images around her, but remembered that Sephiroth was in dire need of her help and turning away from him was not what he wanted to see right now. Her face resolute, Aeris stepped into the buffeting winds that clawed at her skirts and almost dragged her ephemeral body off her feet. Aeris braved it, trying to reach Sephiroth.

She located him, slumped over on his hands and knees at the side of a black pool as still as a plaque of obsidian, his silver hair a bleak beacon in the howling gusts. Aeris trembled at the sight of so many wounds, everywhere; her heart filled with compassion, she knelt at his side. In the imaginary world of his psyche, she shimmered a gentle, vibrant green, the color of the Lifestream. She lifted a hand to touch him, but before she could, a blast of icy wind knocked her onto her backside. Reacting defensively, Aeris called her staff into her hand, only to look into the amber eyes of a woman who had brought about the downfall of two entire races single-handedly, a woman who had ruined her ancestors and denied the people of Gaia their magic by her actions; a woman powerful beyond reckoning and ready to eradicate Aeris' existence completely if need be.

"The Crisis," Aeris dared to whisper, and in response a sanguine smile curled the sides of Adele's lips.

"Foolish girl," she said scornfully, and reached for her with claw-like hands.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(Balamb Garden)

"Clearly," Xu Fraden said, "There is no hope of us ever beating Galbadia heads-on. They are far too technologically powerful, especially with Mardon feeding them the latest gizmos from the Esthar market. We must resort to our past history of secrecy and sneaking. During the Sorceress War, we relied instead on the elusiveness of our spies and assassins, rather than on how big our guns were…that's not funny, boys," she added sternly, as a whole group of male instructors in the row in front of her burst out laughing and made ribald jokes.

Xu looked at her notes and sighed, waiting them to finish laughing instead of coldly interrupting them as she normally did. Hyne knew that they had far too little laughter nowadays. When they were calmed down, she glanced around at the half-full auditorium around her—so many empty seats!—and continued, "Therefore, I have decided to break our own laws and come up with something more unconventional—we shall post assassins, on our own initiative and without any instigation from a client, into an enemy territory. A two-pronged attack will do nicely."

Someone raised a hand. "Pardon me, Headmistress, but won't that be all the encouragement Galbadia needs to make us all villains and scoundrels?"

Xu smiled icily. "That's war for you. Pull this off, and we will be remembered as heroes. Foul it up…" She shrugged and smiled. "The first thing we need to do is to remove Mardon and his people. Most of the Estharians will support his fall; right now they're afraid to speak up because of the secret police, but I've already heard rumors of a resistance going on. That will be Team A. As usual, it will consist of three people. Quistis, you're in charge of this. Pick two of our people you think who can do it. As for Team B…right now, Trabia Garden is holding back because of Ivan. I'm not blaming the Kinneas', but their hesitation is costing us. Team B will have to break into Deling City and steal Ivan out from under the Galbadian's noses. Won't be easy, but I know you people can do it." She paused, then said gently, "Arne…you'll lead. Are you up to it?"

The captain, who had been slouching in his chair with a depressed expression on his face, now straightened. Fire and new determination burned in his red-rimmed eyes. "Yes, ma'am. At your service, ma'am."

Xu saw Elenor give her a questioning look, are you sure? but Xu chose to ignore it, just giving a firm nod. "Arne, pick your partners, and then the six of you report to me an hour from now in my…" She grimaced, remembering that her office had been reduced to a blackened ruin from a bomb chucked in through the window. "…right here. Got that?"

"Sure, ma'am," they chorused, rising to their feet. The senior instructors quickly bombarded Arne and Quistis to ask for permission to join the mission, but Elenor walked straight towards Xu. The Headmistress groaned, already imagining the interrogation process. The instructor's eyes flashed fire. "What were you thinking?" she demanded in a low whisper that was only a few degrees away from subzero levels.

Xu sighed, tucking her notes in the inside pocket of her coat. "Elenor, look at him. He's lost his father and grandfather. If I just let him loiter around in Garden basically just playing the waiting game, it won't help him a whit. Think about this. I've given him a purpose, a feeling that he really matters. Besides, I've often found myself that fighting in hot blood lets you forget," she finished, a little sadly.

Elenor absorbed this. "That sounds reasonable," she admitted grudgingly. "Are you going?"

"I would love to, but I have too much to do as Headmistress," Xu said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How about you? I'm sure you will be an invaluable asset."

A fleeting smile crossed Elenor's face. "Thank you, Headmistress. I won't take up anymore of your time." She made a stiff, formal bow, then discarded formalities and hugged Xu. The two women embraced for a few seconds, then separated, going their own ways. It made Xu reassure herself no matter what, her friends would always be at her side.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

(Sephiroth's mind…or whatever)

Aeris shrank back from the Crisis' towering presence, but she could not help sneaking a quick peek at Sephiroth where he lay behind Adele on the rocky ground motionless, almost unnaturally so, his skin ivory against the slick, black rocks. Noticing her interest, the Crisis gave a short laugh and advanced on her, a menacing look on her face. Aeris squeaked and stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the jutting ridges of the uneven path. She felt very small, standing in the shadow of the mighty sorceress. In fear she called to the Planet, but its song sounded weak and reedy now. It was too far away, it could not help her. She was utterly on her own.

"Stubborn girl," Adele said coldly. "Where is your precious Cloud now? The AVALANCHE members? They cannot protect you. For so long, you have stood in my way." She gritted her teeth; in the dim light they seemed pointed, like fangs. "First you meddled in my business by calling Holy, now you seek to sever my son from his destiny!" She pointed at Sephiroth. "Fortunately, not all is lost…"

Frozen to the ground, Aeris could barely breathe. The Crisis' insane laughter tore through the air as bright images flared to life around her. She was kneeling down, praying, and a black and silver demon leaped through the air to tear the life out of her with his devilish blade. Her blood, flowing over the green crystal, staining the clear pool crimson. On the ground, Sephiroth stirred restlessly. The demon from the vision.

Aeris' fear overcame her anew, just as it had when the Planet had first explained her task to her. She had cried, railed, pleaded, against what she viewed as a cruel fate, until the Planet had taken her to see his soul, wounded and adrift, in the Lifestream. Kindness had taken the place of her terror. Until now, forced to see her death over and over again, she could bear it no longer. Despising herself for her lack of faith, for her cowardice, she retreated, tears flooding her eyes, Adele's mad laughter a suitable accompaniment to her shameful flight.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

She has abandoned you…

Loss. Despair. Crushing, on me, like the weight of the world itself…

Aeris. You taught me love and mercy and gentleness…was that a lie too? I thought you were an angel. But, it seems, even angels are imperfect…

But I can't blame you, Aeris. You looked inside me and you saw what I am, and you accepted it, but even then, how can you forget the name of the man who killed you, denied you happiness among the living?

…not worthy…

…you were right after all, Mother…

…I am a demon…

……………………………………………………………………………………………

"I'm so sorry…" Aeris wept, in the warm embrace of the Planet later, enfolded in its living melody. She could sense its disappointment, but also its forgiveness and understanding, and that hurt more than the blow that had killed her. She had been given a mission, and she had failed the trust of the one whom she loved more than life itself, who she had sacrificed her life for.

At last, when Aeris' body had stopped shaking from her racking sobs, the Planet's message flooded her mind in an explosion of color. She interpreted the words out of the pictures, breathlessly, eager to be successful this time.

—Clearly Sephiroth's strength is not enough— the Planet noted. –It should be instrumental if further allies could be summoned in the fight against the Crisis. Oh, child, do not be so quick to place blame on yourself. In this regard you are much like Sephiroth. The Crisis is skilled in manipulation; she has tricked elders older and wiser than yourself—

"Thank you, my liege," Aeris whispered gratefully. "What should I do next? Who do you wish to be your champions?"

She listened, then a smile broke through her tears.

"That would be perfect! I should have known. After all, they've faced her before. Except…" She pulled a wry face. "They don't much like Sephiroth, and I have a suspicion the feeling is very much mutual. Oh dear…"

—I shall take care of it— the Planet replied in amusement. –Now, my sweet daughter, go, and be safe—

She let herself bask in the Planet's love a moment longer, then with a thought, found herself back, immersed, in the emerald blood of the Planet.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

15/2/05: YAY! I'M BACK, FOLKS! After two months, I finally overcame a severe case of writer's block to deliver to you Chapter Twenty: Avengement! I'm afraid Twenty-one will face a similar delay because of a huge load of schoolwork (exams tomorrow and today…ugh…) and again, I'm so sorry for not updating sooner! Can you guess who Aeris is talking about? Hint: It's the event you all were waiting for…time to make use of the crossover theme…

And now, for the thank yous all around to everyone kind enough to review last chapter!

NEXT CHAPTER: THE MARDON AFFAIR

(guess what?)

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Thanks to:

Angelgrl185: Me too, Time of the Twins is my absolute favorite. I love how Crysania changes so much by the time Book Three comes round! Anyway, sorry you weren't included in the last thank you last chapter, I posted it just when your reviews came in.

Zack M. Strith: But of course.

Anasazi Darkmoon: Yeah, well, just bear in mind that not all the character deaths have taken place yet… (smiles evilly)

TheWyldeWestWind: Hey, too many good vs. evil good wins fics out there, I had to do something different, ya know? As for killing Leon/Squall, I know that was a more daring move, but then, it was different! Too many Squall resurrection fics already… so SQUALL IS STAYING DEAD AND THAT'S FINAL!

Squall: I can just feel the love…

(Stomps on him)

Squall (obediently disappears)

Dark Knight Gafgar: That's refreshing, after reading reviews in which people cursed at me/cried after reading that Squall died. And as for Seph summoning Meteor, I think that defeats the purpose of my story, in which Seph is supposed to be a good guy with a halo and harp and everything.

Noacat: No lab explosion. Not yet. But who can guess? This stupid characters keep running out of control. For instance, I didn't mean to make Aeris freak out, I was going to write a huge battle between Adele and the Planet…

tetraflash777: Thanks for the reviews! Keep pouring them in! All opinion helps. Hope you had a good vacation. As for Seph…if I make him TOO DAMN powerful its too easy huh?

KokoroHikaru: Yeah, I felt like I was making Seph too soft…like this chapter…

emerald drake: uh…you okay there?

meowwl: I kept typing out filed instead of field…I guess I missed one.

Jehraldeen: Here you are…silver platter and all…

One Winged Evil: You know what they say…we are, never, ever satisfied with what we have, hee.

……………………………………………………………………………………………


	24. 22: The Mardon Affair

A Word From The Author: 1/3/05: Alright, I foresee some delay in getting this chapter posted because my computer has been encrypted with a new password so I can only type at school for half an hour during my free period, so all apologies to the readers. Plus I've got a bit of writer's block again…plus for some inexplicable reason I find it hard to get any inspiration while in school…anyway, I'll try for your sakes okay?

Chapter Twenty-One: The Mardon Affair

Later on Quistis and Arne met Xu in the auditorium with their respective partners. Quistis' squad consisted of herself, Elenor Rynee, and Haisha Wyerheir, back on her feet and looking very determined. As for Arne, he had recruited his best friend Keire Wulcan and Mel Flintein. Xu gave them a pleased smile and all of them quickly settled down to business. They sat in a rough semicircle around Xu, and began their brainstorming progress. Quistis had already formed the potential beginnings of a plan in her head, which could solve the problem of how they were to sneak into Esthar in the first place.

"Skeiz will be careful, of course," Quistis said confidently, "but we'll be better. Besides, it will be a splendid opportunity; huge crowds, the guards watching out for the resistance groups…" What she was referring to was the news on the Galbadian network which their team had pilfered from a satellite after hacking into it—the inauguration ceremony the following night in which Esthar was officially going to become part of Galbadia. Security would be high, of course—this was the last chance the rebels would have to stop the process, and Skeiz knew it, but Quistis was sure that the man, in his arrogance and overweening egoism, would never imagine that the beaten SeeDs would return to the enemy camp right under his nose and attempt to assassinate him. Besides, what other choice did they have?

"Okay, you can talk to Jafael about it and see if he can spare any of his pilots," Xu replied after Qusitis had had her say. "Arne, what about you?"

"Well," the young captain said, looking a trite sheepish. "I'm sorry, guys, but we aren't going to get away so clean like in Quistis' idea. In fact…yeah, it stinks a lot, but I'm sure you toughened SeeDs can handle it."

He voiced his thoughts, and Keire's eager expression quickly gave way to incredulity. "You want us to what!" he exclaimed, outraged. "Two miles of effluent tube? You…you…" He fumbled for words, but failed.

"Give me a break," Arne said defensively. "Next time you can exercise your brain and I'll do the dirty work. Being a leader isn't easy."

Mel smirked. "What did you expect? A five-star hotel underneath the Galbadian plains? Dream on." She became serious. "So, when are we leaving, Headmistress? And how?"

"I think it would be best if both integrations were to be done simultaneously. A clean attack always works," Xu answered. "Team A, that means you, Quistis, will travel part of the way to Esthar tomorrow morning, I suggest you use your stolen Mirrormist. Then you can put your plan in action. As for you—" Xu grinned at the unfortunate Team B, "I'll ask Selphie to fly you to Fisherman's Horizon in the Ragnorak. I know she'll want to participate, even if it's just a little."

"Selphie? She'll crash us into the middle of the ocean!" Arne cried out with a look of abject horror, having experienced Selphie's excess enthusiasm in the cockpit multiple times.

"She may be reckless, but she's a good pilot," Xu said with an evil smile. "Arne and Quistis—your faces are too well known, so you'll have to undergo a night of complete metamorphosis." She tapped her fingers on her comm. in a rapid tattoo and instantly the doors opened to admit an army of professional makeup artists. They swarmed on the two hapless SeeDs and whipped out creams, dyes, pads etc. Xu ushered the rest out the exit and admonished them to do whatever they needed to do to get themselves ready. Saluting, they went on their separate ways.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

(_…a dream…)_

_It is green; the living green of spring, the green of a young woman's soulful emerald eyes, the green of insane eyes filled with darkness and Mako. The lake glimmers with crystal clarity. It is smooth as a mirror, hiding its sleeping secret; just as he had left it a year ago…_

_It seems so far away already._

_The lake ripples._

_What is that? Angels' voices, rising in a crescendo, mingled with soft, sad notes like drops of rain. Soft and cool and gentle, like her hands, laid across her still chest. But she is dead. He has failed, even in victory._

_Help me…he thinks he hears her voice pleading. Come to me._

_Anything for you, he replies. He needed to be forgiven…_

_I never blamed you, she whispers. He sees her now. Her back to him, brown hair curling damply around her neck. Her pink dress is sodden and clings to her slim figure. _

_He wants to run forward and hold her, but something stops him. Maybe it is because she never once turns around to look him in the eye. At last she sighs, and says, Do not dwell on the past. Here she sounds sad, and emphatic, as though imparting a deeper meaning than her words suggested. He wants to ask, but her voice cuts, like a blade wrapped in silk, across his. Heed well. Come here, for you are needed again. Her voice drops. The Planet needs you. I…need you. _

_As she speaks her form begins to fade away into the green mist, and the pain stabs him as hard as though it were physical. Wait, he calls, running to her. She makes a warding gesture, but he ignores it. His hands go right though her. He falls to his knees, palms out pleadingly, as she vanishes right before his eyes._

_The last thing he hears is a faint whisper so soft he barely hears it, floating like a feather though the air:_

_I'm so sorry, Cloud…_

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

(Back in the real world, Balamb Garden)

Arne scowled as he examined his new reflection in the mirror. "I don't think blond agrees with me."

Quistis glared, tugging on a lock of her newly curled hair, thankfully still retaining its original color, but now in long ringlets that made her look totally different. As in…weird, though she had been assured that it was because she was till unused to her new look. Plus cheek pads that altered the lines of her face and brown contacts. "Well what am I, then?"

Arne winced. "Not that there's anything _really_ wrong abut being blonde, of course…"

As for Arne, he sported what was actually a quite dashing look, his fair hair sweeping up in a widow's peak and sweeping in a downward arc across his eyes and down the nape of his neck. Some kind of rubber stuff had been added to his nose, making it resemble the beak of a bird of prey, and his eyes were green with gold tint. He peered at his reflection, almost bumping his nose into the mirror, all the while maintaining his vaguely disgusted expression. "I'll be glad when the mission is over and I can go back to being my plain old self."

"Admit it, Arne, you actually like it," Quistis drawled, aiming a playful poke at the younger man's ribs, which he easily dodged, pouting at her. "WhatEVER," he groused, sighing as Mel bounced in, her hands full of cloth. "Let's go see what they dug up for us. Good taste is so hard to come by nowadays…"

"Hi, guys," Mel said, setting down her stash on a chair while the other three walked in. "Okay, since Esthar is all high-tech and snazzy, I guess Team A will have to dress up to blend in better, so…"She reached arm-deep into the pile and came up with a glittery, extremely sheer black gown. "How about this, Quisty?"

The blond instructor recoiled in horror. "I am NOT wearing that! It makes me look like a …hooker!"

"Yes!" Keire said eagerly, closing his eyes in bliss.

"Pervert," Haisha chortled and elbowed her colleague hard in his side.

Mel burst out laughing. "I was just kidding. That used to belong to my aunt Eve, and she used to…" She noticed the others staring at her. "Uh…digression over. Anyway, I figured Quisty would fit right in with…" She rummaged around again and came up with a sensible, no-nonsense, dark beige blouse and a navy blue skirt that ended at the knee. Quistis sighed in relief, and Keire joined Mel in poking through the loot to look for something that would fit Elenor and Haisha. The members of Team B were all dressed casually in old clothes, since they wouldn't remain clean for long.

"I still can't believe you, of all people, would have made us crawl through a stinky old pipe," Keire was heard to mutter under his breath, looking at Arne with an expression that suggested that it would be a VERY long time before he forgave him.

"Okay, done?" Quistis asked an hour later, when the sky was starting to turn a dark blue, illuminated only by a wan sickle moon. The levity had grown more and more strained with the passing of time and even Mel's good humor had been quenched by the seriousness of the situation. The SeeDs gave an abrupt nod in the affirmative and moved out of the auditorium.

At the landing pad, they were touched to find friends and colleagues lined up, smiling encouragingly, some even expressing disappointment that they could not come along to 'fix 'em good.' Quistis accepted quite a lot of requests to give Edigier a good kick in the ass and other areas that cannot be mentioned because of the PG-13 rating of this story. Jafael and Selphie, donned in their black flight suits, grinned and waved to their fellow pilots. Quistis, as she approached, thought that the excitement had done Selphie a lot of good; her dancing green eyes once again held the impish glimmer Quistis knew so well, and her pale cheeks had regained her healthy pink glow. Unlike Jafael she had eschewed the helmet and her crisp brown curls bounced on her slender shoulders as she blew kisses at all her friends. Irvine, standing beside her, tried his best not to look envious or sad for her sake, but it was in his eyes as he leaned over to kiss his wife and put an arm possessively around her.

"There's no need to be a jealous old hubby," Selphie chided Irvine playfully, though she looked extremely flattered. Lisa groaned and rolled her eyes, but despite herself she was glad for what seemed to be the last shred of normalcy in her torn world. Just a fortnight ago she and her brother had teased their parents together…tears glimmered in her green eyes, so like her mother's, and she tried to hide them. Irvine put his free arm around her too, and for a precious moment they were bonded as a family, more than they had ever been in Lisa's whole life. The hectic life of politics, of important meetings and top secret documents, were forgotten, and Lisa loved her parents as she never had before. Somehow, in this war, through fire and smoke, they had found each other again, and her only regret was that Ivan was not here to share this moment with them.

But he was coming home. Soon. The SeeDs were going on a mission to bring him home again. Lisa wished she could go…

Selphie kissed the both of them goodbye. "It'll be a short trip, I'll be coming back very soon, honey," she said cheerily, acting as though she was only going to the market; an ordinary journey, an ordinary day. It touched Lisa, and she smiled. For her mother's sake, she'd be strong. She stood back, and Selphie skipped into the gleaming red Ragnorak, which was actually Xu's own personal craft. She had chosen to donate it to the cause, claiming that she 'never did much flying anyway nowadays'. Selphie paused for a second to run her fingers appreciatively over the sleek red hull before disappearing inside.

Jafael shook a few more hands before strapping the helmet securely over his head. He gave Quistis a thumbs-up, and she, Elenor and Haisha boarded the Mirrormist which she had stolen from Esthar. Quistis figured, rightly so, that it might cause a bit of confusion, enough to create a diversion to drop off the three intruders. She, Haisha and Elenor waved one final time before the ramp hissed shut.

"Be safe," Xu yelled, her eyes looking suspiciously moist. Arne gave her a final hug, then grabbed each of his teammates by the arm and steered them into the Ragnorak. The cheers and shouted encouragement of the gathered SeeDs and cadets were drowned out as the engines of the fighters roared simultaneously, spewing smoke and fire. They rose, one red and one black, and then shot off, leaving a trail of orange and gray in the night sky.

The crowd slowly began to disperse, their spirits flagging after the enthusiastic farewell that might well be the last they might ever see of their brave heroes. Irvine, Xu, Zell, Seifer, and Rinoa stood together, staring at the tiny specks as they wove their ways towards the stars, the survivors of another war more than two decades ago. Xu spoke the words that lingered in all of their hearts. "Our time is over. We've got to leave these responsibilities to the next generation…but it's hard, isn't it."

Rinoa's eyes glimmered and she cast her gaze down. It would be the hardest for her…if Arne never returned, she would be the last of the Leonhearts. Utterly alone. No further words were spoken, and the small group huddled together against a greater darkness, alone, forlorn, but finding strength in each other's company, long after the smoke trails of the fighter planes were faded to transparency.

Until the teams came back, it would be a waiting game.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

The Mirrormist punched its way through the sparse clouds that hung like a death shroud over the dim forms of the Cetra peninsula far below. The Garden gleamed like a white beacon amid the rocky shores and dark waters. Quistis gazed at it for a moment before it was swallowed up by the ragged clouds, and wondering if she would ever see it again, she turned away and joined her friends. Haisha was catching some R & R before the mission and was curled up tightly in one of the passenger seats, her eyes firmly shut. Quistis envied the woman her ability to relax. She could not. For once her legendary ability to stay calm in the face of the strongest adversary seemed to have abandoned her, and she found her feet tracing a meandering, continuous path over the floor restlessly, her hands clasped behind her back.

"You're driving yourself crazy, you know. Sit down," Elenor said in a matter-of-fact tone, her head propped up against the plush back of her seat.

"I know." Quistis sighed and obeyed, but barely a minute later she was unable to restrain herself. She got up and started pacing again. Elenor watched her for a second, then closed her eyes too, though her grip stayed firm on the hilt of her katana. Quistis wondered of it was because the chance to avenge Laguna's death was here at last. Every time she thought of Skeiz Mardon these days, her fury boiled over. She hated the man with a passion unrivaled since Ultimecia. The sorceress had been an evil being, yes, but somehow far off in the future, detached; but Skeiz was human, sane, and he had performed these atrocities in an act of rational thought. The fight with Ultimecia was more to save the world than anything else, for the people; the opportunity to kill Skeiz was for herself. It was _personal._

Onward they sped, through a darkening haze, and as Quistis watched Gaia whir past in a blur of color she had the strange impression that she was standing still and the world was sliding away under her feet, that whatever fate in store for her was rushing forward to meet her. She shook away the odd fancy, and finally, as Fisherman's Horizon spun away, sleep overcame her and she sank into darkness, straight against the wall, like a silent sentinel.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

(Esthar, early morning)

The pale, wintry sunlight grazed the top of the clouds, illuminating them until they shone like golden fleece. It did not warm the people of Esthar; all it served was to shed light on the bleak expressions of bewilderment and subdued fear as they went about their daily business. Just a few weeks ago they had been snug, secure, sure of their place in the world, but since the death of Laguna they had been thrown out of sync. He had been the one thing that had held them together as far back as anyone could remember since the Sorceress War, binding all Estharians with his warmth and childish naïveté. Now he was gone, and they were lost, suddenly behind yet another war, allied with an old foe and enemies of old allies. Their world had been turned upside down, and it was to change again in a few hours. But they did not know this yet, and they walked with shoulders hunched and heads bent under the watchful gazes of Mardon's black-clad elite guard.

Engines roared. This was nothing new. The Estharians did not raise their heads to look. Probably yet another delegation from Galbadia, come to meet with their President again…

The sun glided on the rim of the world, and out of the sun came a black bird, its metal skin gilded with gold, the crest of Esthar standing out vivdly against the ebony. The Advigilo Custodia raised their black-helmed heads, like a dog which has scented something on the wind. One raised a 'link to his mouth.

The citizens paused. Uncertain. The Custodia waved them on with their rifles, watching with flat, cold eyes.

Smoothly, the Mirrormist banked, heading in a gentle glide towards the airport. The Custodia took the 'link from his lips, but remained vigilant. Suddenly the Mirrormist pulled up sharply and then dived steeply towards the center of the city. From a distance it seemed that the Mirrormist was dropping specks of sand that rained down upon Esthar like a fiery shower.

"Attack!"

The Custodia ran, as alarms blared throughout the city, leaving the Estharians to stand, confused, but in dawning realization that, whatever this might be, it marked the beginning of a new change for Esthar. But whether it boded good or ill, they did not know, and this worried them. They would have liked to drop whatever they were doing and swarm towards the first break in monotony in their lives for what seemed like an age, but for the stern remainder of the Custodia who ordered them back to work, keeping watch as the first of Esthar's air force was deployed, speedily heading towards the disturbance.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Go!" Jafael spat. The pilot did not even pause to wipe the bead of sweat dangling dangerously from his brow as he spun the Mirrormist in another swoop that brought him dangerously close to crashing into the roof of the Palace, lasers flashing in a continuous cycle of red lines. His voice, amplified and carried to the hangar by a microphone, caused the members of Team A to tense and ready themselves.

The ground fell out from under their feet, and Quistis, Haisha and Elenor, though prepared, could not resist simultaneous gasps as their feet suddenly trod thin air. They quickly reached behind them and activated their hoversacks, strapped to their backs. There was a gush of air and their rate of descent slowed, though not markedly, but enough to keep them from breaking any limbs. SeeD equipment was never known for their gentleness.

Quistis caught Elenor's eye; she was pale but her face was carefully calm. Quistis herself was worried about Jafael; looking up, she could see the black shapes of the Esthar Mirrormists streaking across the sky. She forced herself to modulate her breathing, to calm her racing heart, but she could not resist the wave of euphoria that abruptly swept through her. This was where she belonged; in action, on the field, finally doing _something._ She was suddenly grinning, and the fear was gone in a flood of adrenaline.

Their feet came to a harsh, jarring stop just behind the Palace walls. The guards were gone, having left to the front where Jafael seemed to be pummeling the entrance with more lasers, from the sounds and the faint smell of ozone in the air. The women quickly divested themselves of the hoversacks and hid them in some handy bushes. Quickly, but casually, they headed around the corner and assimilated themselves into the bulk of the crowd, staring at the spectacle despite efforts of the Custodia to chase them away. Since Quistis, Haisha and Elenor were in the civilian dress of the Estharians –long, heavy robes weighted down at the hem, they blended in easily, and their makeup job had given them the pale complexion and fair hair of the Estharians. Quistis didn't like it; it made her feel itchy, but she feigned nonchalance.

Jafael…Quistis thought, her heart pounding behind her mask, her concern dispelling her earlier glee, please be alright. The Mirrormist, one against many, dodged and ducked around the bigger fleet, red lasers splashing against the clear blue transparisteel(Copyright of Star Wars) of the path. Quistis strained to make out the shape of an escape pod against the sky, and she prayed fervently as the menacing shapes of the enemy Mirrormists closed in.

She saw nothing.

Lasers fired. The friendly Mirrormist zoomed straight up, nose pointed at the sky. It looked like it would make it. Then, as it arced sharply across the top of the enemy formation, a Swallow, lurking at the back, agilely followed, jumping out of the pack of black wolves. The little guns fired, point-blank.

The Mirrormist buckled. The orange streaks of fire burned black marks against the surface, some flickering off where the shield diverted them. The other Mirromists rose, ponderous, and fired together.

Jafael's ship exploded. Beautiful, Quistis thought vaguely, as the ship blew apart in an expanding ball of fire. Crimson, black, and orange, staining the blue sky with the colors of war. It would linger for some time. Enough time to remind any who looked upward that they had been first marked. The first act of war against them.

Elenor's eyes were hard. It was never easy. No matter how many times they had experienced it. She nodded to her silent comrades. "Let's move."

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

Jafael scrambled through the bowels of the ship. It was hard to let go of the controls; the ship had been faithful to him, and he was sorry to leave her. He had set her on auto and prayed that she would avoid the deadly blasts long enough to let him escape. He patted a bulkhead, almost fondly, like a master petting his favorite dog, as he moved swiftly down.

The Mirrormist rocked, making him stumble. _Shit._ Jafael cursed fluently as he punched at a button. The escape pods lay just beyond, beckoning, promising safety and freedom. A recent addition, specially customized. Hadn't gotten out of Esthar yet. Gave the pilot more control of his direction. Jafael picked one at random and headed towards it.

The ship shuddered again, and there was a tearing sound, like a deep groan, as though the Mirrormist was in pain. _Hold it together some more ,baby. _Jafael dragged himself inside one of the bubble-shaped craft and cycled the door shut. There was a tortured scream of screeching metal, and the metal glowed dull red. Jafael hung on for dear life as a sheet of white hot fire raced towards him, like a sea of destruction, pushing him into the metal of the pod. A flying shard of twisted metal flew past and cut open his cheek. The Mirrormist was collapsing around him, and Jafael could glimpse blue sky through one of the widening cracks…his last look of life.

Jafael screamed, and the Mirrormist was rent apart in a ball of flame.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

'The Esthar Air Force is to be complimented for their readiness and success this morning by restraining a rebel fighter ship, now identified as one stolen by Quistis Trepe,' the newscaster droned, his words carrying well through the lazy air of the hot afternoon permeating the little café. Quistis sat nursing a cup of cappuccino listening with a heavy heart and hating the bland voice and expression of the speaker. Hyne, he was talking about the death of a human being; could he be that uncaring? Was he some flunky of Mardon?

'No survivors have been located, but the President is confident that any evidence found will be linked back to Balamb, who recently went rogue after turning down a generous offer from President Mardon to join the New Alliance…'

More propaganda…it was sickening. Quistis endeavored to keep a neutral expression as she slowly sipped from her cup. Haisha was seated nearby, and she looked as though she was going through the same struggle.

The bell dinged, and Quistis glanced up to see Elenor stride through the front door, her normally rangy steps somewhat hampered by the heavy robes. She was unrecognizable with her white-blond hair set in a prim bun; Quistis had gotten too used to her usual ponytail. Seemingly randomly, she sat across her partner and called for coffee. Quistis fiddled with her curls, sharply aware of the alert gaze of the Custodia roving around the café. With the morning incident, and tonight's formal declaration, they were extra observant for any signs of suspicious activity. Under lowered lids, she studied Elenor, whose face remained blank, until she twitched an eyebrow very quickly.

Her fingers tapping a rapid tattoo on the plastic tabletop, Elenor appeared to be suddenly taken with the cooling unit installed at the corner of the ceiling. Quistis pricked her ears intently, listening to the rhythm of Elenor's fingers. Haisha got it after a few seconds, and together the two women stood up, paid for their drinks, and sauntered out. More Custodia were patrolling outside. Quistis and Haisha gave them a wide berth and continued down the road to the living units.

The apartments were plain, identical buildings arranged neatly in a row, made of some unidentifiable pale blue stone with shaded balconies. Quistis checked the numbers and when she found the one she wanted, she inserted in the keycard that Kiros had given to her before he had left Esthar. "Keep it," he had told her. "In case you ever need a hideout to crash out at if you ever feel the world is against you. And anyway…" He smiled a bit. "There's loads of private stuff in my house I can't pack up and take with me, and there's no way I'm letting the landlord get his hands on it. Keepsakes, mementos… I won't be coming back, Quistis, so you can everything. At least, keep all my things safe for me."

Remembering, Quistis smiled a little wistfully as the automatic door slid open, allowing her to cross the threshold into a sparsely furnished three-room apartment, as pristine and military as Kiros himself. A picture of Laguna, Kiros and Ward in their younger, happier days, posing with grins and rakish stances on the mantelpiece caught her eye, causing her smile to become bittersweet. Dear, bumbling Laguna—he would be well missed. The SeeD soon understood what Keiros had meant by 'loads of private stuff' as she poked around the house. Packed away in every available space were war journals, tattered copies of the Timber Maniacs. Weapons semi-rusted or in good condition were tenderly packed away in boxes or in custom-made glass cases. The latter had little paper labels stuck to them, describing the story behind the contents previously written by their owners, containing little anecdotes and jokes of life in the army. Quistis found herself smiling despite herself, finding the spirits of the three comrades still lingering about her, warming her.

"Hey, stop mooning," Haisha called behind her. Quistis almost jumped, but quickly gathered herself and faced the younger woman, expressionless. Haisha must have seen something, though, for her face abruptly softened as her gaze went past Quistis to the stack of mementos. "You really loved those guys, huh." A blunt statement for a blunt nature, but Quistis knew that Haisha meant well.

"Which is why that bastard's going down," she said in reply. Haisha looked a little taken aback at the coldness in her voice, unaccustomed to the more predatory nature her friend was suddenly revealing, then smiled too. "Yeah. Sometimes I just love my job, what about you?"

"Sweet," was the answer. The doorbell rang, causing the two women to turn and glance at the entrance warily. You never knew…Haisha loped away to peer through the peephole before pressing the switch to open the gates. Elenor's distorted image moved across the parking lot and made an instantly recognizable gesture that signaled that all was well. Chewing on her lower lip, a nervous habit of hers that she had yet to break, Haisha let her in, on the double.

Elenor flopped on the battered couch the instant her feet passed the threshold, breathing deeply in relief. "Good to get some R and R. Gosh, those Custodia were _everywhere_," she snarled sagely. "Can't give a girl a moment of rest…"

"So…what did you find out?' Haisha asked eagerly, crouching at the foot of the couch while Quistis took a seat on one of the arms. "Anything juicy?"

Elenor smiled faintly. "More than that. One of the resistance group members recognized me, a real astute fellow that went through the same class with me but eventually dropped out. Estharian by birth. He really, really doesn't like Mardon, or so he tells me."

"Which is good, right? We need all the help we need," Haisha said cheerily. She had pulled her legs close to her and her chin was resting on her knees.

"So, what's the stats?" Quistis asked. "How many can we count on to help us?"

Elenor winced. "Truth is, this 'old friend' isn't really too trustful of us either. Even told me not to disclose his real name. The only reason he's helping us out now is because he knows that you," she indicated Quistis with a tilt of her head, "used to be Laguna's friend. Wouldn't tell me how many guys he has committed to the cause, but he did promise that one way or another we're going to get into the VIP booth. Clear line of shot for you, Haisha."

The petite woman nodded and smiled in anticipation. Then her eager grin faded. Turning to Quistis, she said quietly, "Hey, if you could, I bet you wish you're the one pulling the trigger, huh?"

The blonde instructor shrugged indifferently, but both Elenor and Haisha could see right through that one. "I can't let personal feelings interfere with our goal. Besides, you're the better shot with a rifle."

"Well, guess I can't complain," Haisha replied.

"What's the plan?" Quistis wanted to know.

Elenor smiled. "Turned out my friend was planning a strike of his own tonight, but since he's got us, he decided that he wouldn't risk his men unnecessarily. Thus…we got the job." She rummaged in her purse and came up with three laminated passes. Quistis pulled one over to examine; it looked authentic, stamps of authorization, photographs, signatures. "However…? Your friend sure has some resources. It's bloody amazing." She tapped her own photo; it felt odd seeing her own face, yet so drastically different with its frame of wavy yellow hair, staring back at her. "How did he get hold of our mugs?"

"Passports," Elenor said, and left it at that.

Haisha let out a whistle. "That is _fast_. How did he pull it off?"

"His policy is 'don't ask, don't tell.'" Elenor stretched out comfortably on the couch. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like some sleep. The idiot guy almost brained me when he first saw me; thought I had turned, or something. Quite…nasty of him…" Her words faded into a sleepy snore. Quistis chuckled and hopped off the couch, still regarding their newfound tickets to success with more than a little apprehension. Stuff this sophisticated had to be inside work. But then again, not every one had been satisfied with Mardon's rule. Who knew how many spies had managed to infiltrate the palace? It was a little frightening.

Glancing at Haisha, she saw that the younger woman had curled up into a little ball and had gone to sleep too. Smiling slightly, Quistis let her eyes linger on the peaceful tableau as she headed towards the only other couch in the house. After all, who knew, it might be the last tranquil scene she might ever set eyes on again.

(That night…Esthar, Parade Ground)

Quistis fidgeted uncomfortably, tugging at her strands of hair as she moved with the flow of the crowd. She felt nervous and touchy with the impending mission, and she worried incessantly that in the crowd, anyone could be watching. An assassin with a knife could slide into her ribs the moment her back was turned and blend with the throng before anybody suspected anything. The plastic pass felt sweaty in her grasp, but she sought to compose herself as she neared the VIP box, mounted higher above the rest, and decorated with Esthar's colors. There was a kind of a little balcony jutting out where the VIPs could stand and wave at the audience. Perfect for some target practice, though that was clearly not the use the builders had had in mind when they had designed it, that was for sure.

Confident smile firmly in place, Quistis strode towards the entrance, no, sauntered, looking as though she had every right to be there. The Custodia pair guarding the entrance with guns drawn was clearly not impressed, however, as they quickly stopped her with the muzzle of one laser gun. "VIP admittance only," one barked, making Quistis's ears hurt. Did the Custodia receive any lessons in manners at all? She wondered idly.

"And VIP I am," she said grandly, flourishing the plastic card. Without so much as a by-your-leave, one of the guards snatched it from her grasp and ran it through a scanner, prompting an irritated frown from Quistis that in reality covered a deeper worry. They couldn't even be sure of Elenor's friend could be counted upon…To her relief, the scanner beeped and emitted a blinking green light, causing her to take back all her doubtful thoughts with a silent apology to the 'friend.'

"Clear," one of the men said, not sounding the least sorry as he gave the card back. Just as Quistis was about to march past with an affronted air, he added, "Not so fast, madam. We shall have to scan you first."

"Okay," she said with calm resignation, injecting the slightest bit of hurt into her voice. Hey, whatever worked. One Custodia ran her over with a handheld device, and it hummed peacefully until it made contact with her belt, a fancy affair of blue and silver links, attached by gold-gilt leather thongs that were tied at the ends so that the longer ends dangled over her bodice. The scanner let out a shrill beep that had everyone in the vicinity turning their heads.

"Remove your belt," the guard ordered.

"Fine, if you say so," she groused, rolling her eyes. The other man kept his gun trained on her, while she undid the chains and let it fall with a clatter onto the floor. "You know how much that cost?" she queried. It was answered by cold silence. Not that she expected anything else.

She came up clean after that, and the guards grudgingly stood aside to let her pass. As she went, she snatched up her 'belt' and secured it around her waist again. She smirked. The Custodia really needed a good eye checkup. She sighed in contentment as she ran her fingers over the smooth links of her Save The Queen. Thank goodness its colors went well with the clothes she was wearing.

She ascended the steps and ran her eyes alertly over the scene, seeing nothing and seeing all at once. As agreed, Haisha was sitting near the front; she was holding an animated conversation with a good-looking young man behind her dressed in the Galbadian colors and looked to be enjoying herself. Qusitis wondered what that young man would think if he had known that the sweet-faced young 'lady' in front of him was actually a trained assassin who could kill him seventeen different ways bare-handed and had a nasty rifle skillfully hidden on her person.

Probably not too much, she thought, and turned her attention discreetly to Elenor, seated alone and rigid-backed near a large group of dignitaries, some wearing the blue and white of the Coruthians, others with the flag of Galbadia. If they got unruly, it was her duty to subdue them with a harmless tear gas bomb that would induce temporary blindness and nausea.

Now she had reached the lower platform, where Haisha was sitting, facing directly towards the stage, chatting as though without a care in the world. She walked past without making any sign of acknowledgement and sat about three seats away, which was about a yard away where Deling's entourage were assigned to sit. If she couldn't have a shot at Mardon, maybe she could give Edigier a scar from Save The Queen to remember her for the rest of his life.

She checked her chrono. A quarter to eight, and they were all in position. Quistis gazed down and saw a black-suited figure stride onto the stage, illuminated by strobe lights, and for a moment thought she got a glimpse of his cold, ice blue eyes as he made for the center, trailed discreetly after by his bodyguards.

After tonight, she thought with grim satisfaction, they would be closed forever.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

Skeiz Mardon could barely contain his glee as he strode confidently to the microphone. This was his moment of triumph, the crowning moment of his glory, the result of years of hard work, aimed for this goal. He was President of the largest city on Gaia and the most technologically adept, and after tonight he would be officially joined in partnership with the next most powerful nation—Galbadia. And eventually—the world.

He could hardly wait.

Smiling benevolently at his city, his people, he spread his arms wide in a gesture meant to encompass the whole of the wide expanse before him, prompting a wave of applause and cheers from the Estharians. Not all, though, some sat sullen and silent in their seats when they should have been merrymaking, and Skeiz took note of them. He may have climbed over a few bodies to get up the ladder, but that didn't mean he didn't mean the best for his city, he thought, annoyed. Because of me, the Estharians would finally be established as rulers of this world, and a well-deserved position it would be too. They certainly never would have gotten this far under the leadership of that weak-willed fool, Laguna. Talk about having no ambition…

Clearing his throat, he looked around the stands one last time, and as he did something caught his eye. For a moment he thought he saw…he wasn't sure what he saw, but then as quickly as it had come the odd sensation was gone. He was unaware that at this moment Quistis Trepe sat atop the VIP stand, blue eyes boring into his.

"My greetings to you, people of Esthar," he said, smiling charmingly, the smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Tonight we shall be united with Galbadia in a historic moment of truce between us. There will establishment of new ties, our old feuds forgotten. Tonight, I am certain, shall be a night you shall never forget."

…………………………………………………………………………………………

You got that right, buster, but not for the reasons that you think, Quistis Trepe thought fiercely, glaring daggers at the man she loathed so much. After all, dying was a pretty unforgettable experience, or so she'd heard. She resisted the urge to make eye contact with Haisha, at this stage, if anything could go wrong it would. She scanned the stage, picking out the bodyguards, and her eyes widened as she recognized one of them. Loki Calrior. They had worked together and he had been slated to be the next Headmaster after her. Could she fight him, if things came down to it? Would he fight her? She had _liked_ him… he was nice, smart, and funny and handy with his twin pistols. Right now he stood at attention, in that rigid, unbending way she remembered, dark eyes flicking around, seeing nothing and everything at once. Another thought presented itself that Loki could pose a worse danger; he might recognize her, after all the time they had spent together.

Just what they needed, yet another complication in their already unstable plan.

The chrono beeped, and Quistis felt her muscles tense. She glanced sideways quickly. Haisha was standing, smiling at her companion, waving. Turning, she strode down towards the platform, where she raised a camera. Leaning over the railing, she started snapping pictures. Qusitis feigned interest in her for a couple of seconds before returning her attention to Skeiz. He was saying, "Let us walk ahead together, to a brighter future, where Gaia will finally be at peace, order established, and this age will be remembered as the golden years of Gaia's history." Looking up, he smiled at the night sky. "And here comes the President of Galbadia. Citizens of Esthar, please rise."

The sound of a helicopter filled the air, coming fast. The eyes of every person in the stadium were tilted towards the sky, watching in suspense. Even Loki, distracted for a brief moment, glanced up.

Quistis suffered no such deviation from her goal. It had been in her dreams too long. She imagined what was going on behind her right now as she rose, unfolding her lanky body from her seat; Elenor, tossing the bomb into the packed crowd of politicians, their brief struggles concealed by the roar of the engines. Haisha had dropped her camera and was now hastily assembling the gun, a nasty long-range soft bullet piece of work. She set Skeiz in her cross-hairs, aiming for the space between his eyes, her eyes narrowing as she poured her soul into the bullet, the little piece of metal straining to burst out of the muzzle, and fired.

It streaked across the sky in the aftermath of the blast, muffled, but not entirely, by the silencer. Heading straight towards the heart of a man who deserved to die. Quistis prayed it would strike, even as she ran towards Haisha to jerk her away from the scene. Mesmerized, Haisha stared at her impending kill, her eyes glazed, as though she could still control the direction of her weapon.

Skeiz moved, Whetehr it was the doing of fickle Fate, or his own sense of caution, he moved. Just a little, bending down to shake the hand of a wellwisher. In any case, the bullet did not hit where it was intended to. Quistis knew that they should run, they had failed, but she could not tear her eyes away as the bullet penetrated the throat of a bodyguard standing behind Skeiz—thankfully, or not, Loki, Quistis thought deliriously, killing him instantly.

For a moment, there was shocked, breathless silence, a few seconds after the echoes of the gun had died away. Qusitis found her feet were frozen to the spot, despite her inner senses wailing out an urgent siren that she should get the hell out of there _now._ But the weight of failure pressed her to the ground and stole away her breath; freezing her gut into a solid ball of ice. Failure…it was something she was accustomed to, as a SeeD, but it always hurt whenever she experienced it. The seconds stretched out into long ages of despair as she struggled to come to terms with the disappointment.

"Out!" Elenor ordered, grabbing her shoulder and roughly shaking her back to her senses. Quistis, out of her momentary daze, nodded sharply, not at all offended by Elenor's gruffness. Now was not the time for coddling. Haisha, though obviously crestfallen, moved fast, tucking the gun under her arm. Running swiftly, hopping over the fallen bodies sprawled haphazardly on the floor, they reached the end of the box. The pane of glass overlooked a park, dark and gloomy in the night, gradually flooded by seeking lights. Nevertheless, it was the only way to go.

"Floats at the ready?" Haisha asked. "Let's get out then." She closed her eyes, drew on the magical energy loaned to her by the Guardian Force nestled within her mind.

"Wait." Quistis grabbed Elenor's sleeve just as the other instructor was about to smash in the window with the help of the bulky end of Haisha's gun, now rendered pretty much useless; Haisha, not wanting to be weighed down, had only brought a few cartridges that would hardly put scarcely, if at all, put a dent in the ranks of their enemy. Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Elenor faced the blonde. "Wait? For what? The rescue cavalry?"

"Nah." Quistis grinned wryly. "It's just that…" her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Me and Skeiz, we have a score to settle, and I am not going to walk away just like that when Mr. Pompous-and-Arrogant is conveniently situated less than a hundred metres away. This thing has to be finished, and I intend to be the one to do it."

"Are you crazy?" Haisha screeched, jerked out of her concentration by Quistis' startling pronouncement. "The Custodia are everywhere! You'll die for nothing." The young woman's urgency was conveyed through her frantic tone and wide eyes. "Please, Quistis…I know how you feel, but don't throw your life away."

Touched, Quistis nevertheless forced herself to pull away from Haisha's grasp. Speaking so fast her words melded with each other, she said, "It won't be for nothing…because I intend to win. Look, we've got no time, but let me explain this fact." A stray bullet whizzed through the glass with a silvery tinkle, passing scant inches from Quistis' head. "When is an opportunity like this going to come again? We've got to take advantage of the confusion; those guards out there are expecting us to bust out, not dig our grave further. So…just go, okay? I'd suggest a hostage."

"Quistis…" Hsiah implored.

Elenor nodded. "You've got it, leader." Drawing her hand back, she brought down the gun hard on the glass, spraying shards outwards in a deadly rain upon the Custodia that waited like black wolves beneath the box. Giving Quistis a curt nod, she scooped up the nearest body, that of a portly, middle-aged man with graying hair and a dark blue uniform festooned with so many decorations it was a miracle how he had managed to stand in the first place. She stepped to the edge of the shattered window, and smield brefly at Quistis. Raising her hand, she spoke the beginning words of the Float and let herself fall.

Haisha stood there, looking forlorn, then without another look back she hopped off in Elenor's wake. Quistis stayed long enough to watch the Float take effect, white surges of power flaring out in the shape of feathered wings, before she was sprinting through the smoke-filled air, to the balcony where their plan had gone so horribly wrong.

She was there, and the metal railing was hard against her stomach as she looked down, into the veritable storm of gray-uniformed men, crimson sirens, and frightened people screaming and shoving in terror, hampering the efforts of the Custodia despite their attempts to restore order. None of them gazed towards the box where the lone blonde fugure stood. Quistis smiled in grim satisfaction; it seemed even fate was working right for her now.

_One Float coming up, _she signaled to Siren.

_I hear and wish you good luck in your endeavor, _the seductive Guardian replied in her musical, husky voice. Quistis felt a invigorating rush of heady power fill her body, and knew that the ever faithful Guardian had helpfully boosted her magic and strength for the upcoming fight. Quistis sent a mental thank-you. She would need the boost. Everything in her soul yearned for the coming fight, the wielding of the justice that would send a certain arrogant bastard to where he belonged.

Baring her teeth in an animal snarl, reflecting the long pent up rage boiling inside her, Quistis jumped, and as though drawn by some magnetic force, across the stadium Skeiz Mardon turned to look at her, and his own anger was expressed in the sharp contours of his face. Blue eyes met, and held, locked by hatred. Impatiently his hand flicked to his belt, where the leather-bound handle of his own whip, Potent, resided.

Quistis had jumped; the wind snatched at her blond tresses, whipping it around her face. As the magic of the Float kicked in, she kicked out, one steel-shod heel slamming hard against the wall of the box, sending a web of cracks racing across the alumnisteel surface, her prodigious strength propelling her across the heads of startled citizens and enraged Custodia alike below. Save The Queen was in her hand, and to her mind it seemed to throb hungrily, straining towards the source of her immense loathing.

She flipped in mid-air, and as a suitable target caught her attention, she lashed out with Save The Queen. The links snagged hold of a handy Estharian flag on the stage and as she pulled, she shot forward into the air. Another flip, and she stood on both feet on the stage, gazing evenly at Skeiz Mardon.

"Hello, Skeiz." She said lightly, belying the sudden maelstrom of emotions churning inside her intestines,

He smiled coldly. "Welcome to Esthar, Ms. Trepe."

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

Author's Ending Note: 28/4/05- Whew! Two months later, I finally find myself here at the end of this darned chapter. I'm really, ultra sorry for my slowness, cos I don't really like my subplot and I have some trouble developing it. Initially I planned to finish the entire affair in this chapter, that is the assassination of Mardon, but I figured it'll take me another couple weeks or so to finish, so I'll just put it up now. I'm afraid from now on it'll be one chapter every two months…So…thanks to all you guys who reviewed.

Thanks to:

meowwl: I'll say…but I live in Asia, I wonder how long it will take for AC to make it over here, if ever…sigh…

Noacat: Yeah, she'll be alright, now that there're reinforcements coming over. Keep tuned to find out more! I suppose, though, even without the dream scene this chapter it's kinda obvious who they are already…lol.

Anasazi Darkmoon: Hey, congrats for finishing your story! Unlike me. Are you planning a sequel? And…no…I'm not bringing in everyone, you'll see why.

TheWyldeWestWind: …I'm sorry! I'll try to be a bit faster, but there's some writer's block here.

Macky: Sure.

AsheRhyder: Have you read any more than that?

Dark Feruil: Great to see you back…and reviewing…

Dark Knight Gafgar: ..Why do I keep thinking of exploding cows…? And as usual, your feelings are way different from the others. Makes for variety.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...


	25. 23:On War, Mortality,and Endings

A Word From the Author: 27/8/05- Gosh, has it already been four months! Yes it has, and please forgive me for keeping you guys waiting. (laughs nervously) You can blame it on the PS-2 that came my way early this year, causing me to be distracted from story-writing for a while. ANYWAAAY—well, finals are coming up and I doubt I can post this up anytime sooner than November, but I figure I better get a head start, hey?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**ATTENTION!**

**added 14/3/06: Those here for the update, please go to Chapter Seventeen, a new insert and the beginning of my extensive edition. Thank you.**

Chapter Twenty-Two: On War, Mortality, and Endings

_(…another dream…)_

_a familiar scene, he seen it so many times already sometimes she will live and she will come running to him her smile lighting up her face her eyes aglow—_

_just for him—_

_and he will wake up knowing that it didn't happen that way and it can't be changed—_

_This time, it is different._

She is not kneeling, as she had been when she had died. Her hands are folded across her torso, masking her death wound, giving her a sense of tranquility. Her head is hung low, and her loose chestnut hair masks her eyes. He watches, with expectancy. Once again, something holds him back from going to her.

Why do you keep coming to me? _He asks. _You remind me…of so much…

_She moves slightly, ripples of emerald light seeming to radiate from her figure, glinting off the smooth crystal around them. Angel light, the radiance of the Lifestream. _I don't want to make you sad, Cloud, _she says. _

Then why—_his voice breaks in anguish and his hands rise towards her as though pleading before dropping back limply to his sides. _

It wasn't your fault, _she soothes. Something in her voice changes subtly, and he looks up, as she adds, _It wasn't his either.

It was…hers…

Behind her flares an image…a silver-haired man, wielding a long sword, a lone black wing arching high over his head—terrible, beautiful, awe-striking. His eyes are empty, but within them moves a devious intelligence. He smiles at Cloud—that familiar, mocking smile!—as he raises his sword and brings it sweeping down.

No! he screams.

The scene goes black. As his dream self fades from the scene, her voice echoes one last time, etching themselves into his memory.

You must learn to forgive him, Cloud…

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

(Fisherman's Horizon)

Arne staggered down the rampway of the Ragnarok, his face vaguely green. He glanced with evil intent at the deceptively cute-looking woman who sat in the cockpit above him, as Keire hopped down after him. "Are you airsick, captain?" he asked, smirking.

"Shut up," Arne retorted, making a threatening gesture that Keire easily dodged. Instead, Arne nearly overbalanced and would have crashed face first into the ground if Mel hadn't darted forward and caught him by the arm. Arne glanced skyward to see a cheeky smile etched with unmistakable clarity on Selphie's pixie face before she bent down to fiddle with the controls.

Keire snickered. "No wonder you failed flying, Captain. Practically no turbulence at all, and you were _airsick._" He laughed louder, prompting an annoyed glance form Arne and an incredulous, "No turbulence!"

"For Selph, anyway," Keire amended. "So what now, boss?"

Arne regained his balance and began walking with more confident steps towards the staircase leading out of the satellite dish. "To see Monkey," he called over his shoulder. "He's got the keys."

"_He's _the agent?" Mel asked, arching an eyebrow as she fell into step beside him. As usual, he started a bit as he caught her at the edge of his eyes, her ponytail now gone and sacrificed and the rest of her hair, now jet black, swept up in a crown of slicked-up spikes sharp enough to impale a G-Soldier if he got too close. (Maybe that was the intent, Arne mused.) A few drops of eye coloring, skin dye and a change of expression and a stranger's face stared back at him. She seemed somehow darker and more aggressive, and Arne was a little troubled by how easily it became her. Perhaps because he didn't know whether it was true or feigned.

Glancing into the blue eyes, now specked with gold flecks, courtesy of the coloring, he replied, "He's a bit bizarre, but he did do Dad a favor once or twice after Dad chased off a G-major that had been irritating Monkey. He's okay, Just takes a bit of getting used to."

Mel shrugged. "If that's what you say."

They left the glittering dish behind them and a guard waved them over the newly restored railway tracks leading to the station, now running as efficiently as before—a project funded by Laguna, Arne recalled wistfully. Now gone, sleeping the sleep of the just, along with his father.

Arne rubbed his neck hard, suddenly feeling ill. Were he to die, the Leonheart line would be forever ended. His hand stole to the silver chain around his neck; a parting gift Rinoa had given him at the funeral. Griever. His father's pendant, the word 'Leonheart' etched into the back. His questing fingers traced over the frozen, snarling features of the lion, as he recalled his family's history. Raine, dead after a monster had mauled her, her baby still miraculously alive, her only legacy the pendant around her neck. The boy, taken into the orphanage. Not knowing who he was, or where he came from, he took the surname Leonheart, from the one precious thing that tied him to his past, when he began to forget…The second Sorceress War. Emerging in triumph and joy. Everyone was happy…so happy…

Arne had been born in that time pf peace, an all-too-short period of glowing, golden years that would contrast all too painfully with the coming darkness. And, contemplating all this, Arne felt terribly saddened, not only for himself and his family, but for everyone else, that had been touched, scarred by the war, in one way or another. War was the robber of Death. War was bloated corpses, closing a loved one's eyes, crying for revenge, and stolen dignity. Arne hated it.

He walked rigidly, detachedly marveling at the sudden transition from levity to bitterness. War did that to you.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

(It is a bar. Clinking noises, voices muted and loud, soft music filtering through hidden speakers, wind whistling through a crack in the window. The weathered sign outside the door reads, 'A Step From Heaven'.)

Bill should _really _get that window fixed, he thought dully, sinking down to gaze blankly at the chipped glass in front of him. He had been nursing his drink for nearly an hour now and had barely taken a sip from it. Now it sat tepid in his hands. The man sat up and shoved it away in disgust. It was more an excuse to get in here without being thrown out…he hadn't touched alcohol, since he had discovered that even dead drunk the pain wouldn't go away. No, he was here, because it was the last place she would come to go looking for him—

The door opened. With a loud BANG, causing most of the patrons, excluding the seriously sloshed ones lying half-huddled beneath the tables in a puddle of their own vomit, to look up. He didn't, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the battered surface of the table as sharp footfalls came towards him unerringly. She had eyes like needles, he had always told her, effortlessly picking him out from the dim atmosphere almost immediately.

"Hey, baby! You're lookin' hot, lady," some idiot slurred drunkenly from behind him. She ignored the drunkard, as per usual, but this time there was a sharp yelp that indicated that the fool had tried to cop a feel. He smiled to himself, though there was a tinge of sadness to it. She'd found him. Now he would have to find another hiding place next time round.

She stood next to him. He could sense her near proximity, and she smelt, as always, of warm chestnuts and spicy sweat. But he didn't look at her, or do anything to acknowledge her presence; so she spoke first, with a hint of irritation and, too, worry that she could not hide. "I've found you."

"Uh-huh," he agreed amiably, twiddling his thumbs."

"That's poisonous stuff." He knew that she was referring to the alcohol.

"I know. I'm clean," he replied softly.

There was a long silence. A silence in which the scarred wood in front of him became specked with dark spots. She was crying, and she hated that, hated the man sitting near her as much as she loved him.

"You're crying," he observed inanely. He still refused to look at her, even as she said, "Look, we have to talk."

"So talk." And he finally raised his head, his blue eyes catching the dim lights and sparkling with their own inner light, startlingly bright in the dark.

"Not _here. _Let's go outside, please."

"Suit yourself," he answered, as polite as ever, as he stood and tossed a few gil onto the table before following her outside into the cool, dew-scented evening. She turned away from him a few moments to regain her composure, before she said flatly, "Was it that dream again?"

"…Yes. No," he said slowly, considering. She looked at him, expectant. "She was there. But it was different," he added, but didn't elaborate further.

She hugged herself; it was a cold evening. He watched her, expressionless. "Damn you," she said finally. "Why do you have to keep everything to yourself? You have friends who care about you, you selfish bastard, and if only you would just open yourself up to us—!"

She regained control. "We care about you, Cloud." Her tone was pleading.

"The others," his voice, carefully toneless, "don't care like you do." He took a few steps nearer, and caught hold of her chin. His eyes, with their faint glow, were unnerving so close. She tried to pull away, uncomfortably aware of the truth of his words, but froze as he spoke again, his words accompanied by warm puffs of air on her skin. "You're just…jealous. Because I love a dead girl. Well, that's my problem."

"Cloud!" She was suddenly furious. "How _dare _you say that!" True, she had been slightly envious of Aeris, but not to the extent of being of a green-eyed monster. Aeris was a good girl, pure and innocent, and she deserved all the happiness she could get. Tifa had never resented her so much as to spoil their friendship. Likewise, she was mildly irritated with Cloud's feelings for Aeris, long after she had been laid to rest, but she had confronted her unrequited feelings for him long ago and come to terms with them. How dare Cloud suggest that she might be jealous of a dead girl's memory! Tifa seethed. She'd _show _him.

"Cloud Strife, you listen to me." He had released her, and now she jabbed a hard finger into his chest, knocking him backwards with the force of her finger as well as her words. "You're such a damned egoistic bastard, you know that? I respect your feelings for Aeris. I don't mock you, I don't do anything that warrants this kind of behavior from you!" She was screaming in his face now, and he was looking startled, with just the slightest hints of anger glittering at the edges of his eyes. "I even agreed to come with you and everyone else to the Forgotten City because of that dream you had—because Aeris asked us to come—because she was a good friend." Her voice softened. "And you're a good friend too. Not just—not just because of whatever I feel for you. We've gone through so much together, let's not have this spoil our friendship."

He was silent for a moment, the anger dissipating at her last statement. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled grudgingly, as he ran a hand distractedly through his spiky hair. Tifa was content with that apology; even dragging that one out of Cloud these days needed a supreme will and divine intervention. "Want to go back to the inn?" she asked gently. "We're all very worried about you."

For a second she thought he would refuse. Then he nodded slightly, and her heart soared. She patted his shoulder lightly, and he smiled a little at her. "You know, I've figured something out," he said, as they walked back together. "There are no happy endings."

She glanced questioningly at him. "Did you think there were?"

"Yes," he said fervently. "I used to believe that. It gave me the strength to face off Sephiroth in the end. I thought, once he was dead, everything would be just peachy. But it wasn't. We were left with the shambles of a dying world, and it was a long hard road to recovery. There were loads of people, just _dying, _everywhere we went to help. And Aeris was dead, and we had failed to protect her." The corner of his mouth curled in a brief, ironic smile. "Everybody wanted to interview us. But they only asked us questions about before, not after. Nobody wanted to face the reality that, once the story ends, it doesn't really, Life goes on…and life is pain and hardship, in the present."

"Cloud…" Tifa gazed at him, resting a soothing hand over his.

"Have you ever read Cinderella? Snow White? All those funny little fairytales we read to the orphans so they would fall asleep?" he asked. "They all end with, 'happily ever after.' Because the authors of those stories, they knew when to end. Because, if the story goes on too long, it always ends in death."

"Makes you wonder, if the effort was all for nothing," he finished, softly.

"Of course it was," Tifa said at once. "See all the people we saved!" she gestured, around them, at Costa Del Sol, still lively and bustling despite the late hour. "If it wasn't for you—for us—they'd all be dead, and so would be an entire planet." She turned a determined gaze on Cloud. "You did a meaningful thing, Cloud, and don't you forget it. Millions of people have you to thank for their lives."

"Do they, really, hmm?" Cloud murmured quietly. He shook his head. "Never mind. Just thinking. Thank you, Tifa." He smiled quickly, and Tifa could read in that short flash that, though, she had not managed to ease his burden, he was grateful to her for her effort.

She just hoped that whatever awaited them in the Forgotten City would somehow restore Cloud to his old self again. Ifrit, but she missed that Cloud so badly.

"I hope you heard that, Planet," she mumbled absently.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Author's Ending Note: 23/9/05: Yeah, yeah, pretty short, I know, but I'm suffering from a VERY serious bout of writer's block, so this chapter is just to fill in a plot hole or two and introduce the FF7 characters to the scene. Nil plot development, I know, and I have just discovered a humongous plot hole in my last chapter which has gotten me a bit down, so I am now compensating for it in an extremely clumsy fashion that will no doubt blow off many off my readers. Ah well, I can't change that plot hole without some extensive rewriting, so I hope you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me when you lay eyes on said hole next chapter in November. I'm terribly sorry for the five month delay. :( Please review to make my day and encourage me to post as soon as my finals are over. smiles.

Oh yes. Credit must be awarded where it is due. The theme on 'no happy endings' is inspired by li-tzu's Legacy Of A Madman, and the last part of Cloud's angsty speech owes its existence to Mr. Gaiman's The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes. Thanks, both of you, in the unlikely event that either of you read this, for such wonderful pieces of writing.

P.S. Looking forward to Dirge, now that AC is out!

Finally, thanks to all reviewers:

meowwl: Wasn't kidding about _this _delay either, Can't believe AC came out before my new chapter did…I've watched it. Fight scenes were just bloody amazing, though some of the plot stuff just came out of left field.

Noacat: Heh heh, sorry you had to wait five months for me to finally get my lazy fingers to the keyboard. I had some time today, and I became determined to at least finish this chapter, albeit a rather short one compared to the new standards I've set myself.

Anasazi Darkmoon: Pains me too, especially since I must now write a follow-up, which I haven't yet mustered up enough confidence to do so. I still can't decide what will happen, so I'll let the characters make the decision, as usual. They pretty much do so most of the time anyway.

emerald drake: Grins sheepishly. Not! Wish I could have caught the first screening, but I doubt the parents would have let me gallivant off to Japan just to drool over Seph. Had to settle for watching it two days later.

Kenshkrix: Um. I hope you do point them out, because it's kinda hard for me to improve something if you don't say what twigs you. That's what reviewers are for, after all. Anyway, I shall try my utmost to, as you say, 'throw some twists' into the plot for your reading pleasure. No sarcasm intended.

TheWyldeWestWynd: coughs. And still no Seph. I hope I have earned your forgiveness by finally dragging Angst!Cloud out for you guys.

V-Act: blinks. Whoa, long review there. Well, yeah, you've pretty much guessed at it, though I guess it was pretty predictable in that aspect. nods to Kenshkrix. I mean, it isn't as if Cloud is going to welcome Seph with open arms after he pretty much tried to destroy the world and then there was the whole burning-down-of-Cloud's-hometown deal.

mikomi bansiki: Not spoiling things for you, am I? Should play it. Great game, that. Can tell that from all the spinoff business going on at Square.

tetraflash777: This update definitely deserves a mile-length of exclamation marks, considering how long I've been missing from the scene. As it turns out, somebody _did _erase me from their favs, not that I blame he/her. I haven't been very consistent this year.

Dark Knight Gafgar: Unfortunately, I have absolutely zilch experience with guns. Hence, the general naming of 'gun' throughout the entire chapter. My knowledge of guns only goes as far as to inform me that rifles and pistols are also included in that category. Heh, sounds pathetic, doesn't it.

Andrew: Thanks! It's people like you who really boost my ego and make me tell myself that I'm a great writer (though that isn't true, of course.) Continue feeding my ego, please. It's a great feeling.

NEXT CHAPTER, COMING YOUR WAY IN NOVEMBER:

Belly of the Beast.

………………………………………………………………………………………………


End file.
